


A Vision Softly Creeping

by just_kiss_already



Category: Baby Driver (2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blackmail, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Time, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Nude Photos, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panties, Phone Sex, Public Sex, Slow Burn, The attempted non-con is not Buddy, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-01 02:56:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11477163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_kiss_already/pseuds/just_kiss_already
Summary: Buddy takes an interest in Baby. Baby's not sure what to make of it.





	1. Chapter 1

It starts because Darling is sick. 

Okay, maybe it's a little unfair to lay the blame solely on her. She's always been good to Baby, always treated him nice. Teased him a little, sure, but nothing like the others. All the crews, all the criminals that have drifted through, almost all of 'em tease Baby. Except Darling and Buddy. 

So when Doc calls with a job and Baby shows up and Buddy is there without Darling, that strikes Baby as a little less than lucky. 

The other two are strangers. They know each other and they know Doc, but they clearly don't know Buddy from the squinting sidelong glances they keep throwing him. Buddy doesn't mind, he's all easy charm like always. Almost like always. Something is off, just a little. He seems impatient. Taps his fingers, throwing off the rhythm of Baby's music. Shakes his leg under the table, sending little vibrations through it. Baby has to take his hands off the table completely before Buddy's weird secret anxiety sets him off too. 

Plans are made. Baby plays with Doc's collection of toy cars. Coffees are purchased. Doc waxes poetic.

Straight forward bank robbery. Baby gets to drive a Charger, he likes those. Feel like an old school muscle car. He wonders what color it is. He likes blue. Or red. Grey is a good one for blending in, though, and he likes grey too. 

Buddy shoots out of his seat like a rocket when the meeting adjourns and Baby finds himself following. He likes the couple and he's worried, Buddy never does a heist without Darling. 

In the elevator, Baby finds his tongue is too thick and heavy. Doesn't know what to say anyway. Instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at Buddy from the corners of his eyes, hidden behind his sunglasses. 

The door to Buddy's parking garage floor opens, but no one moves. After a minute, the doors slide shut and then nothing. The elevator doesn't move, the doors don't open again, nothing. 

"Spit it out, kid," Buddy sighs.

Baby jumps, startled. He didn't think he was being that obvious. His mouth still won't work, though, so he settles for lifting his eyebrows in a silent question. What do you mean.

"You didn't wait for the others. You always ride with Doc. Didn't choose a floor, either." Blushing, Baby looks at the panel. That explains why the elevator isn't moving. "C'mon, you want a ride home?"

That's a terrible idea, he doesn't want any of these people knowing where he and Joe live. On the other hand, he can have Buddy drop him off well before the apartment building. And. It'll give him time to figure out how to get his mouth working again. Pros outweigh the cons. 

"All right," Baby murmurs, voice a slow drawl. Buddy grins abruptly, making Baby blush harder for some reason. Eyebrows drawing together, Baby hits the doors open button, hoping Buddy'll stop looking at him.

Buddy's driving an old silver Mazda RX-7, sporty 80s car, all sharp lines. Baby wonders whose car it is as he slides down into the bucket seat. He hates bucket seats. Hard to get out of when you're in a hurry. 

"All right, Baby, plug those tunes in. Play me something mellow. I'm feeling... blue." He throws the car in reverse and they peel out. It's weird being driven. He sort of wants to drive this little car with the lights that pop out of the hood. Maybe Buddy would let him if he asks.

Instead, Baby just plugs his iPod in. Dave Brubeck. Take Five. Chill with enough sparkle to not be a downer. 

They've been driving for ten minutes when Baby realizes he didn't give an address. He analyses the feeling swirling around in his stomach. He's not afraid. Not exactly nervous. Something's fluttering around in him though. Sliding down into his seat a little, Baby decides not to mention it. He can't concentrate enough to figure out how to ask about Darling, though. 

Before he can ask, though, Buddy pipes up. "She's sick, she's... Darling's not going so great." Baby's heart lurches. "Money ran out a while ago, blow ran out after that. You ever seen someone crashing from cocaine? Gets you a little crazy. Paranoia, anger, fear. So she's gotta stay at home for this job, see?"

They're outside of downtown now, on the highway. Baby likes the speed, seeing the tall glittering buildings glide past. He watches a big, coppery-looking skyscraper when he asks, "she gonna be okay?"

"You're a good kid, Baby. Yeah, she's gonna be okay. Just needs some hair of the dog. I got her some nice weed, some nice drink, she's just trying her best, y'know? She's a trooper, that Darling." Buddy shifts up, hits the gas, Baby scrolls through his iPod, picks a song. 

They drive under the quiet sad of the Sound of Silence for a minute before Buddy speaks up again. He reaches over without looking, pats Baby's shoulder. "You're a good kid, a real good kid, huh?" Baby doesn't know what to say, is he supposed to answer that, so he just shrugs instead, feels Buddy's calloused hand shift to the back of his neck. It's chilly and a little clammy, but it's kind of nice, especially when his calloused trigger finger ruffles the hairs of his nape.

Buddy downshifts and they take the offramp back into the city. His fingers all start playing with Baby's hair, ruffling through it. That's even nicer, gives Baby goosebumps and sets his stomach fluttering again. 

"All right, kiddo, where should I drop you off?"

Baby blinks, confused. He kind of wants this to go on forever. "Uh." His brain can't catch up. "Just. Back at base." He wants to walk home. He. He needs some time alone. To think. 

Buddy laughs, a low chuckle, and Baby blushes again.


	2. Chapter 2

The heist goes smooth. The Charger is white, that works for Baby. Gives it a real Vanishing Point feel. He gives the cops the slip easily and, when they switch cars, he regrets leaving the roaring Dodge behind. 

They take two cars back to base and Baby's heart does a little twist when Buddy slides in next to him, whooping it up as they peel out. Buddy pounds Baby's shoulder with his fist, laughing. They got a lot of money. Darling's gonna feel better. Everything will go back to normal.

When they park and head up the elevator, Buddy can't stop grinning. Can't keep his hands off Baby, either: ruffling his hair, patting his shoulder, nudging him with his elbow. His anxiety seems to have dissipated, a grey cloud breaking up, leaving only sunshine, and it's infectious. Baby tries to keep from smiling but, after a particularly sharp jab to the ribs, he yelps and a quick laugh bursts out behind it. 

The doors open and Baby quickly schools his face, tucking his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders. He doesn't know the other two, doesn't want them to notice him. If he gets noticed, he gets harassed. 

Taking his customary seat away from the table, Baby switches his playlist, relishing the clicks as he scrolls through the music. He can hear Buddy, Doc, and the others talking, divvying up the money no doubt, a low and pleasant murmur behind the opening horns of Ain't That a Kick In the Head.

Time passes as he drifts away on the Rat Pack he's picked out, so it takes a bit before Baby realizes Doc is standing next to him, bags in hand. Baby stumbles to his feet and obediently takes his duffle, the bag he'll just hand over again when they get to Doc's car. Doc delivers his customary sorry but not really, throws in a couple puns, and gets in his car. He offers to drive Baby home, but Baby's mind drifts to Buddy, to his RX-7 and a quick joyride on the expressway. It's not the same. He'd rather walk. 

It's only when Doc drives away do the mice come out of the woodwork. One of the other robbers, slinking out from the shadows of the stairwell. "What the fuck," he whines. "Ain't even got a bag! Where's your fucking cash, man?"

Baby blinks, thinks about the stack in his jacket, keeps his mouth shut.

"Can't even fucking hear me!" The thief marches over, his face screwed up in fury. "Take those goddamn buds outta your ear, dumbass!"

He yanks the headphones out of Baby's ears and every muscle in Baby's body locks up, tense with fear. The red face, the yelling, Baby sees flashes of his father and he knows what comes next. Next comes the fists. The thief yanks again and the iPod tumbles out of Baby's pocket, clattering against the cement. His eyes are drawn to it, sitting there so innocently, minding its own business, singing to itself. He hears more yelling but honestly he's withdrawing so hard into himself that all he hears is his ever-present ringing. 

More voices, more yelling, more boots. It's inevitable when the iPod gets stepped on, the sharp crunch and snap of it pulls him back to himself, out of his head. Glancing up, Baby realizes his sunglasses are missing. He also realizes Buddy is standing by him, panting, watching the thief stumble to his feet and take off, his nose bleeding. 

"You all right?" Buddy asks, turning to take Baby's face in his hands. Any possible answer he could have given flies out the window at that touch. His hands are warm this time, and dry, and they fit perfect around his jaw and cheeks, fingers pushing his head to one side then the next. "He didn't getcha, did he? When he slapped your sunglasses off?"

That explains why they're missing. Mystery solved. "I'm, I'm okay." Baby knows he should pull away, should shrug it off, but he just stares down at Buddy's black boots. The ringing is getting to him, making him feel anxious and frightened, more than the yelling even did. "It's just... my ears. I got ringing. From a car accident when I was a kid."

Buddy takes a step back, lets go of his face, and it gets easier to think. "Shit, kid, is that why you're always listening to music?"

Bending down, Baby scoops up the remains of his poor iPod. Maybe he can salvage it. Or. Or maybe he'll just keep it as a reminder of the day Buddy came to his rescue. "Yeah." He didn't bring a backup iPod, the heist was so fast, he was supposed to be back home before he ran out of songs. Damn. He ducks his head as he's crouching, tucking his chin to his chest; he doesn't want Buddy to see his eyes are welling up. 

"You're sweet," a low voice warbles out, a little off-key, a little unsteady. "Like a honeybee, but like a honeybee stings you've gone and left my heart in pain..." The song trails off and Buddy grins, sheepish. "I thought... Since your iPod's broken..."

A shy smile curls the corners of Baby's mouth as he stands. "It's helping..." he says and suddenly Buddy's hands are on him again. One arm loops around his neck, pulling him in close so he has to lean down a bit; his cheek rests on Buddy's shoulder, the smooth leather soft against his skin, the smell of some kind of cologne filling his nose. He takes a strangled gasp but Buddy's singing drowns it out. 

"All you left is our favorite song, the one we danced to all night long, it used to bring sweet memories of a tender love that used to be-"

His voice vibrates through Baby's cheek and ears, all the way down to his chest, lower, and he's painfully aware of himself, of Buddy, of how close they are. As he's trying to decide what the hell to do with his arms, Buddy starts walking real slowly to the elevator and Baby has to start walking or risk tripping and falling. In the elevator, Buddy keeps singing, turning his head so he's murmuring the song directly in Baby's ear.

"Sentimental fool am I to hear an old love song and want to cry-"

The doors to Buddy's car, the Mazda, unlocks and Buddy leans down, going with Baby even as he slides down into those bucket seats, pressing his cheek to Baby's. He goes to pull away and Baby has to restrain himself from reaching out for him. 

In the car, Buddy turns the engine over and reaches for the radio but stops when Baby makes a strangled noise. 

"What, you- you want me to sing more?" Buddy asks, grinning. Pulling one of his spare sunglasses out of his pockets, Baby nods, unable to meet his eyes. "All right, uh, lemme think. Darling loves Motown, what else we got. You like the Supremes, Baby? Who doesn't." He pulls out of the parking spot and heads for the exit as he starts to sing. "Baby love, my baby love, I need you oh how I need you-"

Baby grabs the edges of his seat, pulse racing. He's sure he's red as a beet now. And he can't stop wondering if the choice was intentional. 

"But all you do is treat me bad, break my heart and leave me sad. Tell me what did I do wrong to make you stay away so long, 'cause baby love, my baby love, been missing ya, miss kissing ya- hey where am I taking you this time, anyway?"

Baby struggles to remember where he lives. It takes a minute but he manages to give directions to a street two blocks over from his. 

Buddy ruffles Baby's hair again. "We did it! This time tomorrow, Darling and I are gonna be feeling right as rain, happy as pigs in shit." He pulls over to the curb, ignoring the honks of cars swerving around him. As Baby goes to let himself out, Buddy grabs his arm, grip firm, demanding. "Hey, Baby love, gimme your number."

He's still flustered thanks to these abrupt shifts in conversation, but Baby dutifully recites his digits.

It's only when he's watching the RX-7 pull away does he catch on to what Buddy called him, insinuating it was a very deliberate song choice.


	3. Chapter 3

The first text is a photo. Buddy and Darling, looking good. They're in a hotel room, dressed to the nines, looking like cruel glowing gods, all grins with teeth that could rend flesh from limb. The accompanying message says "miss you ;)" and Baby doesn't know what to make of that. 

Baby does his thing. He helps Joe, makes him dinner, changes the channel from the news, checks his phone. No calls, no texts. How's he supposed to respond, what would, what would a normal person say to that. Miss you too? Have fun? Stay out of jail? 

He runs his fingers over his tapes, not even reading the titles, just touching the slick cassette cases. He has a recording of Buddy singing Baby Love, he could turn it into a track. But he's not sure he wants to hear that low gruff voice right now. Not in the daylight. It's the kind of thing you listen to in the dark, under the covers, burying your face in your pillow. 

Before he can change his mind, Baby grabs his phone and snaps a photo of himself. Not smiling, not posing. Just a photo. And he sends it. No accompanying text. Seems appropriately confusing, given how damn confused he feels. 

A noise. Baby looks up. Joe signs: a girl?

Baby signs back: no, work. 

Joe's eyebrows raise, he scoffs, but doesn't sign back. Clearly doesn't buy it. 

But it's not a girl. It's a, a what. A colleague. A coworker. Not even a friend, right?

His phone chirps. A photo. Just Buddy, sitting in what looks like a fancy restaurant, leaning back against his chair and half-smiling. It's a special smile, Baby's seen it before, it makes his stomach knot up. The text: you look cute without your sunglasses, Baby Love. You at home?

Baby has to put his phone away, he slides it in his pocket and rushes to the bathroom. He feels like he's gonna throw up. His pulse is racing, his chest feels like it's full of seltzer water. Leaning against the sink, Baby stares at his face in the mirror. His expression is passive and he wonders how he can look so calm.

Pulling the phone out again, gingerly like he's afraid of dropping it, like it'll explode, he opens the text again. You look cute. Baby Love. He wonders what the hell Buddy's doing. He latches onto that feeling of irritation since it's the only one he really can decipher. 

Texts back: knock it off. 

The response is swift, it catches him before he can close the phone. Text: don't be like that. Then, while Baby's staring at the line, a photo. Darling and Buddy making pouting faces at the camera. 

Which implies. What. Darling is in on it. They're teasing him. If that's the case, this is crueler than any of the teasing he's ever endured. He closes the phone, puts it in his pocket, and feels calm. Now that he knows what they're up to, he knows how to respond. With silence. 

The next day he goes to a diner, has lunch, barely tastes it. He swings by the record store but nothing stands out to him, nothing grabs him. So he walks. Just walks through Atlanta, letting the city flow past him. 

Baby tries to ignore his phone chiming, he doesn't want to see them mocking him. He thinks about cars instead, thinks about the cars passing by, whether they'd be worth stealing, whether they'd have enough get up and go to make it worth it. The chiming gets annoying, though, so he steps into the mouth of an alley and finally looks. 

Photo of Buddy and Darling, maybe at a club, their hands forming a heart. Texts: we love you, Baby! Don't be mad. Wish you were here. Send us a picture. Next time we go on vacation, how about you come along. We're gonna adopt you. You wanna be our baby. You wanna call me daddy. Another photo. Buddy smiling his half smile, in a bathroom, bright lights picking out his tattoos and the shine of his hair. Shirtless. Text: send me a photo, Baby. 

Baby's mouth goes dry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the tags have updated. There's gonna be some daddy kink stuff in here.

Baby sends a text back: what kind of photo. He knows that's not a great idea, sending back that kind of message. They're probably still playing with him. He shouldn't give in. Shouldn't do what they want. Don't give them any fuel for their jokes. But...

He tells himself he's just playing along for a bit. Maybe send a photo of something gross, like roadkill or something. Darling would probably think that's funny, she'd like it. 

The phone rings and Baby answers without thinking. Could be Doc. Could be a job. 

"Where you at right now?" Buddy asks from thousands of miles away. 

Baby leans against the wall, feeling like he should hide for some reason. "Alley."

Buddy laughs at that and Baby's stomach rolls. "What you doin' in an alley? Is it private enough?" Before Baby has a chance to ask what for, Buddy lowers his voice and say, real soft, "send me one of your pretty face, okay? Blow me a kiss."

The line goes dead and the tone squawks in one ear while The Beach Boys sing in the other. 

Baby glances around the alley even though he knows there's no one there. It's mid-afternoon, everyone's working in their skyscrapers. He holds his phone up, purses his lips, takes the picture. The fake camera sound is so weird, he makes a mental note to sample it for a track. Maybe the track he's gonna make of Buddy singing. 

The phone rings again after he's sent it. He hasn't moved from the alley, doesn't want to. 

"God damn, Baby," Buddy croons, "you're so cute. I caught that kiss, put it in my pocket for later. Love the alley, real artsy, real dirty. You dirty now, Baby?"

"Uh." Baby has no idea what's happening. He's pretty sure this isn't a joke anymore. What's he supposed to say. What does Buddy want from him. "I'm all right..."

Buddy laughs. "Yeah you are, you're all right. You're a good boy, real good for doing what I ask, huh. Darling wants to say hi, wanna say hi to mommy?" There's a lot of noise as the phone gets passed around and then Darling's honey voice is on the line. 

"Baby!" She sounds drunk, happy, a little out of control. "Baby, Buddy wants to do baaad things to you! He's the big bad wolf and he's gonna eat you up!"

The distant sound of Buddy laughing and the phone crackles as it gets passed again. For a bit, Buddy just breathes over the line, and Baby realizes he's never been harder in his life. He presses the heel of his hand down against his erection, trying to will it away.

He inhales sharply at the sensation and makes a decision. "Hi, daddy." He feels filthy saying it, but it's a good filthy, the best kind, and he almost comes in his jeans right then and there. 

Seems he made the right decision because Buddy groans long and low. "Baby Love, you're gonna kill me, say it again."

"...Daddy." In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Fuck! Oh fuck." Buddy's breathing is speeding up. Darling asks a question, starts giggling. "You miss me? Damn, it's almost enough to make me come home now. Tell me you miss me."

"I miss you," Baby murmurs, holding the phone tight to his cheek, turning away from the street as he furtively rubs his hand against himself through his jeans.

"Darling, get over here, help me out-" Buddy pants, and Baby starts imagining what's happening. Imagines himself there too. "Don't stop, Baby, keep talking to me. Are you hard?"

Keep talking. He doesn't know what to say. He's never done this before. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm hard." Buddy is breathing harder and harder and Baby's heart rate races to catch up. "I wish you were here. I wanna, I wanna touch you. You're so nice to me, you're good to me. Please lemme touch you?" His hand speeds up. He's so close. "Daddy," he whimpers and suddenly he's coming, struggling to keep his voice down as he pulses in his underwear. 

"Baby," Buddy groans, "my good boy, my Baby," and he's crying out, vowel sounds, and Baby's dick spasms at the sound.

There's silence for a bit as they both recover. Buddy is the first one to speak. Baby is too dazed and overwhelmed. 

"Oh, honey, I'm gonna do some bad things to you when we get home, okay? Send me some more photos to keep me anxious. Send me something sexy, Baby Love." He hangs up without saying bye and Baby wonders if he's kissing Darling right now, tasting himself on her lips. 

Baby glances down, relieved to see there's no wet spot. It'll make getting home less embarrassing. That just leaves him with the question of what constitutes a sexy picture.


	5. Chapter 5

Baby lays in bed in his room, phone in hand, absentmindedly rubbing it with his thumb. Sexy photos. What would Buddy think is sexy. Baby liked that shirtless picture, maybe Buddy would like the same. 

Grabbing the hem of his shirt, Baby lifts it to his neck, unwilling to take it all the way off, and snaps a picture.

He got a couple more texts last evening, mostly telling him how good and cute and sexy he is. And every time some new glowing praise popped up on that screen, his heart squeezed in his chest. 

There's no response to this photo right away and he's disappointed. It's silly to expect Buddy to be waiting by the phone, but he can't help it. He goes to sleep wondering what it feels like to kiss Buddy. What his mouth tastes like. 

In the morning there's a couple of texts waiting: damn you are hot. Making me hard again. I'll be back in three days. Wait for me, Baby.

Photos, too. Darling and Buddy in bed, naked, making sexy faces at the camera. Baby jerks off to the photos furtively under the sheets, feeling strangely guilty. He's not sure he can wait three days, not that he has any choice. 

Feeling shy, Baby isn't sure how to respond. This is a lot, he's overwhelmed, feels like it's going a little too fast. All he wants to text is "I miss you" over and over. Too clingy though, way too needy. And Buddy might think it's boring. Instead, Baby puts his phone on his nightstand and gets up, decides to get started with his day. Maybe he'll take Joe for a drive, stop at the diner for breakfast. 

The day isn't anything new, just nice calm routine. They go to the diner, have the same old breakfast, make the same old jokes. Driving Joe's big boat of a car is always fun, makes him feel like they're floating along the road, a hovercar or something. And if Baby keeps checking to make sure his phone is in his pocket, Joe kindly keeps his opinions to himself. 

It only chimes once all morning. As soon as they get in the apartment, Baby heads for the bathroom to check the message. No way he'll do it out in the open. 

Text: send me a REAL shirtless pic.

He thinks about the photos he saw this morning. 

Baby takes a couple deep breaths before yanking his grey shirt over his head, hanging it on the doorknob. He looks pale and soft in the bathroom's weak light. He makes faces in the mirror, trying to figure out what sort of expression might be acceptable. Everything he does looks dumb. He looks like a kid that's trying too hard. Settling on a neutral face, Baby presses his back to the door and lifts his phone. 

At the last minute, he looks away, staring at the crack in one of the tiles as his cheeks heat up in a blush. 

When Baby examines the photo, he's surprised. It's. Sort of obscene. He looks shy and ashamed and his hair is disheveled and he's arching his back a little. Buddy'll like it. 

Taking a deep breath to calm down, Baby yanks his shirt back on and flushes the toilet so no one suspects what he's been doing in here all this time. Then he remembers Joe won't hear the flush anyway. This is ridiculous. He needs to get a grip. 

There's nothing on his agenda, so he cleans. He starts with his bedroom, putting the clean clothes he threw over a chair away, dusting, sweeping, shaking his little area rug out the window. He starts on his electronics, his iPods, his keyboards, his tapes. When that's done, he makes lunch then bleaches out the kitchen, opening the windows to let the smell escape. Joe dusts the living room. Some tv together. A nap.

The day is passing so slowly. He might lose his mind. 

The phone rings in the evening and Baby's never answered so fast. But it's just Doc with a job. Baby brightens at the thought. Between the meeting tomorrow and the heist the next day, time will move faster. 

And the next day does hustle. The crew is unfamiliar. The plan is easy. Someone with a nasal problem gave them inside info. And then Baby remembers. New burner phone. 

Pulling his phone out, he quickly deletes Buddy's texts and the photos on the camera roll, hoping Doc doesn't notice he's distracted. Baby's only supposed to use the phone for work and emergencies and he's not supposed to get too friendly with any of the crews. This definitely constitutes too friendly. 

When he gets home that night, the first thing he does is text Buddy: new phone, got a job tomorrow. 

Buddy's response is quick: one more day. Don't get caught, they won't let me fuck you in jail.

Baby's heart lurches to his throat. He hadn't really considered it, hadn't imagined more than the kissing. Is that what Buddy wants, to fuck him? Now that the seed is implanted in his brain, it takes root and grows. He imagines Buddy on top on him, groaning the way he did over the phone, telling him how good he is. 

He texts back: I'll be good. 

Buddy replies: oh I know you will be, Baby Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby's first photo he sent to Buddy? https://instagram.com/p/_nIG43rNVE/
> 
> I realized after I wrote this that Doc gives Baby a new burner after a heist, but I liked this too much to change it ahaha.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning of the heist there's no texts from Buddy. That suits Baby just fine, he's gotta be on point, have his head together. He's been so distracted lately like his real life is actually being lived out in those texts and photos. 

Smooth and easy. The cops aren't expecting another hit this fast, they're scattered and ineffective. Doc seems especially smug about this when the team gets back. Money divvied, quips exchanged, and it's just Doc and Baby in the garage again like always. 

Doc squints at Baby from behind his glasses. "I know there's a lot of rules to follow for these games, it can be hard to keep them straight. But they're there so we all can keep playing, am I right? Of course I'm right. I know that you know the rules, Baby, you've been a stand-up guy, really played fair, gave it your all. So I'm going to let you off with a warning. The phones I give you, the burners that are meant for me and me only? Well, your little friend on the other end sent a message after we switched phones. She liked your photo. Said it was swell, in a manner of speaking. She's got a real mouth on her, though. I can see why you like her."

Baby blinks. Remembers the shirtless photo he sent before the meeting. Buddy must have texted back before Baby got home to tell him about the new number. 

"So. Since you're such a good sport about these games, I got you a present. Consider it an early birthday gift. Aw, shucks, call it a trophy since you're my champ. A phone. Your phone. Not connected to me at all, so use it to your heart's content. The new rules for your phone, though. One, never contact me on it. And two, most importantly, never bring it on a job. Got it?"

Clutching the box in his hands, Baby nods, reeling. He's gonna have to get a plan for it, maybe pay a monthly contract or whatever. He's never really needed a cell phone before outside of a job, but he desperately wants one now. "Thanks, Doc," he says, proud his voice sounds steady. 

"All right, beat it."

When Baby gets home, he opens the box, lets the slender smartphone fall into his hand. It's sleek and cool to the touch. He loves it. 

His burner chimes at him. A text from Buddy: how'd it go, you still a free man?

Baby texts back: safe and sound. 

The next text is an address and a time. Baby knows what it means. Be there tomorrow. 

The day passes in a blur, and so does the next. Around four, two hours before he's due, he starts fussing with his outfits. Doesn't feel right to dress up. So jean, sneakers. He goes through his t-shirts until he finds the softest, one of his favorites. It'll do. He doesn't look like he's going to... to do whatever it is he's about to do. He paces until it's time to go and still manages to arrive early. 

It's a hotel. Not a crazy fancy one, but not a shithole either. Nice enough that there's a lot of glass and metal and gold in the lobby. Blinded by the reflective surfaces, Baby's startled when strong arms circle his waist from behind. Familiar smells of leather and cologne. Prickle of stubble on the back of his neck as Buddy leans in, presses his nose against Baby's neck and inhales so deeply it's audible. 

"There's my Baby," Buddy murmurs. He lets go abruptly and Baby feels like he might pass out. "Cmon, Baby Love, we got some catching up to do." Buddy grabs Baby's hand and pulls him towards the elevators.

Baby ducks his head, embarrassed, certain everyone is staring at them. When they stop to wait for an elevator, Baby dares a glance up, sees no one is looking their way. The agitation he feels doesn't lessen. 

The elevator doors close and Buddy roughly pulls him into a hug, a hand pressing on the back of his head until Baby's cheek rests on his shoulder. Just like when Buddy sang for him. "Tell me you missed me."

Baby's not sure the words will come out properly, he feels like he's gonna spit out gibberish, speak in tongues, but he tries anyway. "Missed you."

Buddy leans down and gently removes Baby's earbud so he can whisper. "Say it again. Say it right."

Shivering at the gust of breath over his ear, Baby closes his eyes and whispers back, "missed you... daddy." As a reward, Buddy gingerly takes his earlobe between his teeth and applies a little pressure. The pressure increases until Baby whimpers.

"Sorry, sorry," Buddy chuckles. "Got carried away."

The room is small but the bed is huge. The sheets have already been pulled back, pillows tossed around the room, a suitcase sitting on the nearby desk. Buddy rummages in his suitcase and pulls out two small plastic objects in neon green. He grins as he sets them down. "Speakers. For your music. You got your playlist picked out?"

Standing off to the side, uncertain what he's supposed to do now, Baby shakes his head. "Never made one for... this kind of situation."

Buddy sits on the edge of the bed and turns his head to study Baby. "You ever been with anyone, Baby?" It's unnerving, his narrowed eyes, gaze burning, jaw set. 

The intensity of his regard has Baby looking away, staring at the beige carpet. He can't meet those eyes, can't speak, just shakes his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just gotta say, the comments you all are leaving are SETTING FIRE TO MY SOUL. Seriously your comments are making it even more exciting to write this.


	7. Chapter 7

"C'mere, honey," Buddy says, his voice soft enough that Baby can barely hear it over his music. Baby shuffles over and Buddy reaches out, snagging the belt loop of his jeans to drag him closer. "All right, it's all right. Sit down here next to me." 

Baby's body is not under his control, he struggles to relax enough to bend his legs, plops down gracelessly.

Buddy rubs his back, big looping circles, fingers grazing his neck. "I'm gonna be real good to you, okay? Just relax. Gonna make you feel so good." Those rough fingers carefully grip his hair, angling Baby's head towards him. 

Buddy's face comes closer and Baby stares, noticing some grey mixed in the stubble, the fading purple of an old black eye. And then Buddy's lips are on his and Baby closes his eyes. 

Buddy opens his mouth slightly and Baby mimics the motion, leaning in closer, liking the way Buddy's lips feel dry but plush against his, the feel of his breath against Baby's face, the taste of the inside of his mouth. Buddy's tongue swipes against his lip and Baby shivers involuntarily. 

Pulling back, Buddy grins as Baby tries to chase that mouth. "Feels good? You like that?"

"Uh-huh." Baby tries to lean closer again for another kiss but Buddy's fingers tighten in his hair, holding him back. The pulling feels nice, too. 

"Damn, Baby, you are so fucking cute I can't stand it." Buddy bites his lip and his hand slides up Baby's thigh, big and heavy, dragging all of Baby's attention to the weight of it and the way it's warm through the denim. Leaning forward, he hooks a finger around the cords for the earbuds and yanks; they tumble onto the bed. "Pick out a playlist quick, I can't wait any longer."

Baby blinks, brain switching gears, his fingers moving before he even understands what was said. Motown. Buddy sang motown before.

Buddy takes the iPod from the younger man, plugs it in. Guitars, raspy rattle of the high hat, Stevie Wonder starts singing. Buddy laughs, nodding to the rhythm. "Yeah, I like that, Superstition! Writing on the wall, huh?" With Baby's eyes on him, he peels his jacket off, lets it drop to the floor, then plucks Baby's sunglasses off of his face, sets them carefully on the nightstand, gives them a little pat like a promise to keep them safe. 

Putting his knee on the bed, Buddy leans over Baby, invading his space, breathing heavy. "Lay back," he pants.

Baby lays down, blushing from the intense scrutiny, and tries not to tense up when Buddy stretches out on top of him. There's pressure on his dick now and Baby's heart is in his throats and it feels so good. Buddy rests on one elbow and takes Baby's hand, presses it hard against his clothed dick. It's big and hot. Baby's mouth waters for some reason.

"Fuck," Buddy sighs against Baby's hair as the song switches to Diana Ross. Feeling braver, Baby squeezes a little, runs his hand up the length of it, and Buddy's hips thrust against his palm. Buddy lets go of his hand, giving Baby more range of movement; he turns his hand to cup the crotch of the other man's jeans and squeezes again.

This feels safe enough, Baby's just starting to relax into it, then Buddy flicks the first button of Baby's jeans open and Baby freezes like a deer in headlights. Another button pops open, but Buddy's mouth is on his again, facial hair scraping his face. Baby has to focus on the kissing so he can figure out what he's supposed to do, how to mimic Buddy so it'll feel good for the older man, so he doesn't notice the last button unfastening or his jeans being tugged open. 

He notices when Buddy's hand slips into his underwear, though. Notices when those calloused fingers slide down his length to the base and squeeze. Baby grunts, shocked, and Buddy drags his fingers up, stroking the sensitive underside. "Oh my god," Baby whispers.

Buddy kisses his neck, sloppy, as he rubs Baby's dick in the tight confines of his jeans. After a minute, he removes his hand to shove the jeans down a ways. Baby glances down, embarrassed at the way his erection slaps wetly against his stomach, leaking precum. 

"Look at that," Buddy says, lips wet against Baby's skin. "Fuck, that's pretty." He creates a loose ring with his hand and starts stroking. Baby arches against him, crying out. It feels good, too good.

Baby grabs Buddy's shoulders, pushing. "Stop, I'm," Baby whines, "I'm gonna-" He can't bring himself to say it. He pushes again and Buddy moves away, slides down the bed and then the wet heat of his mouth surrounds Baby's dick. Baby gives a strangled yell, grabbing fistfuls of the bedsheets as he comes. 

When he opens his eyes, Buddy is leaning over him. Baby's tongue darts out to lick his lips and the older man's eyes follow it. "Get your clothes off, Baby." 

"Sorry..." Baby pushes off of the bed, humiliated. He's pretty sure he shouldn't have come yet, he should have warned Buddy quicker. He wonders if Buddy is gonna be mad, if he should just leave. 

Buddy raises his eyebrows, his smile predatory. "You're gonna come a lot more than that tonight." Buddy undoes his belt and the jingling of the buckle makes Baby look down; he watches as Buddy unzips his pants, pulling his dick out. He wants to touch it. He wants it in his mouth. "I'm gonna fuck you before the night is over." He unbuttons his shirt, yanks it off savagely. "You like that? You want me to fuck you? Then get your fucking clothes off and get in the bed."

Baby rushes to pull his clothes off. He climbs onto the bed but is stopped by Buddy's hands on his ass. On all fours, Baby looks over his shoulder to glance at Buddy's intense face while his big hands squeeze and kneed.

"So cute," Buddy says quietly, almost to himself, then leans forward. Those hands spread his ass and the gust of hot warm air over him makes Baby whine. It's terrifyingly intimate. Buddy's tongue brushes against his hole then pushes in slightly. Baby flinches and his eyes well up. This is humiliating but it feels so good.

The heat and pressure disappear and Buddy gets up on the bed, guiding Baby to lay down next to him. They're face to face, so Buddy sees his wet eyelashes.

"Hey now, what's this?" Buddy asks, pulling Baby close. "I got you, it's okay." Their bodies line up, Buddy's dick is pressing against his hip and Baby's starts firming up again. Buddy kisses him, pushing him half onto his back, grinding against his thigh. "Daddy's got you," he husks. 

Baby tentatively puts his arms around Buddy, exploring the terrain of his back, the way the muscles shift under his hands as Buddy continues to rut against him. He runs one hand up to Buddy's hair, the bristle of the shaved sections, the tackiness of the product he uses. Some of the longer hair flops forward, tickles Baby's face. He slides his hand to Buddy's shoulder, his arm, squeezing the bulge of the muscle. 

"You like that? Like how I feel?" Buddy rolls off, onto his back, folds one arm under his head while pulling Baby to him with the other. Baby curls against his side and runs his hand over Buddy's chest, stroking his nipples with his thumb. Buddy shifts, drapes his hand over Baby's shoulder so it's by his cheek. "Get my fingers nice and wet, honey."

Baby blushes but turns his head, sticking his tongue out tentatively to swipe at the other man's index finger. Tastes salty. He takes the finger into his mouth, runs the tip of his tongue along the length of it, feeling the whorls of his skin. 

"Fucking talented, Baby, so fucking talented. Come here, gimme a kiss."

Baby likes kissing, he knows that for sure, he eagerly turns back and presses his mouth against Buddy's, only flinching a little when he feels that wet finger stroking his hole. 

"Touch me," Buddy commands against his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm never sure if my sex scenes are okay... Please be gentle...?


	8. Chapter 8

Baby likes the way Buddy's dick feels in his hand. It's hot and silky and firm, he can't help but stare at the flushed skin as he runs his fingertips up and down it, sometimes pausing to give it a quick squeeze. Every time he does, Buddy twitches and moans. It makes Baby feel powerful. He presses harder against Buddy's side, thrusting a little against his thigh for some relief, and slips his hand further down, strokes and cups his balls; Buddy inhales sharply and Baby smiles. 

He wants to taste it.

Sitting up, Baby squirms away from Buddy and crawls backwards to sit between his thighs. He looks up through his lashes, meets Buddy's eyes and grins, feeling brazen.

"Oh, you tease," Buddy laughs. He grabs the base of his dick so it's upright and Baby leans forward, careful to place his hands on either side of the other man's hips.

He licks the precum from the tip, shocked by the weird bleachy saltiness. After another quick glance up at Buddy's expectant face, he takes the head of the dick into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, watching the way Buddy's face contorts almost as if he's in pain. Baby slowly takes the rest in, a little bit at a time, intoxicated by the response it gets from the other man. He starts bobbing his head up and down, shallow dips, and sneaks one of hands between his legs to touch himself. 

Buddy suddenly grabs a fistful of Baby's hair and pulls him off. "You look so good sucking my dick. I want you to come up here, though, I want you to sit on my lap so I can watch you jerk off for a bit."

The thought is embarrassing but exciting. That Buddy thinks he's so sexy he wants to watch. Baby gets up on his knees and lets Buddy direct him with his hands until he's settled, straddling his hips, Buddy's dick pressing against his ass. 

Baby rests his hands on Buddy's chest for a minute then slides one down to grip himself. He can't meet Buddy's eyes.

"C'mon, Baby Love, show me what you got," Buddy says hoarsely. "Play with yourself a little."

After a few seconds, Baby starts loosely jerking his cock, blushing so hard his ears feel hot. 

Buddy keeps talking, thankfully distracting. "You got a pretty dick, I'm so lucky I'm the first one to see it. Look at you, you're so sexy. Don't be shy for your daddy." When he says the last word, Baby gasps and his rhythm falters. "Yeah you like that, don't you? You like me being your daddy."

When Baby stays silent, too ashamed to speak, Buddy bounces his hip, almost pitching him forward. Baby finally looks up, sees Buddy's face is dead serious, his scrutiny burning. Baby licks his lips. He wants to look away but doesn't dare. "Yeah," he finally whispers. "I like it." Just saying it almost pitches him over into an orgasm, his balls drawing up tight. Baby starts jerking off again, faster. "I like it. Say it again."

Buddy's lips part and he reaches out to stroke Baby's cheek, skimming his fingers along his lips. "You're doing so good for your daddy, you look so sexy, I just wanna hold you down and bury my cock in you. Would you like that, Baby? You want your daddy's cock? Don't stop, keep going, you go ahead and come right on daddy's chest, I wanna watch."

Baby tilts his head back as the orgasm tears through him, his dick pulsing in his hand. It feels so good he's almost lightheaded. 

"C'mere," Buddy says, even as he holds Baby's hips and grinds his dick against his ass. After a second, he releases the younger man. "Come clean me up."

Turning, Baby reaches for the tissue box on the nightstand, but Buddy grabs his wrist, yanks him close.

"With your mouth."

Baby crinkles his nose. He's never tasted himself, something about it seems gross. But Buddy is waiting expectantly, his hand a vise around his arm. Leaning down, Baby tentatively laps at his own come. It doesn't taste bad, he doesn't gag, so he takes a longer lick, long enough that he brushes against Buddy's nipple. 

"You're doing so good," Buddy says. The praise is nice, so Baby licks up the rest, warm with pride as Buddy tells him what a nice job he's doing and how filthy he looks.

When he's done, Buddy sits up beside him. "Get on your stomach, honey."

Baby's heart lurches then starts racing. Laying down, Baby buries his face in one of the pillows, anxious. He can hear a drawer being opened, hear Buddy shuffling around on the bed, and then Buddy is laying down next to him, kneading his ass again.

"Give your daddy a kiss," Buddy murmurs, and Baby is happy to comply. As they kiss, Buddy's slick, chilly finger strokes Baby's hole, just rubbing it. It doesn't feel as weird this time, it's sort of nice. The fingertip circles around for a bit and then dips in, just a little bit each time. "I've been doing all the talking, Baby. Why don't you tell me something."

Baby's brows knit. "Like what?" He's not great at regular conversation, he's sure dirty talk will be worse. 

The finger penetrates a little deeper this time, doesn't come back out, just starts lightly thrusting. "Tell me how much you want me to fuck you."

"I..." Baby looks away, staring at Buddy's chest, the divot right above the collarbones. "I'm nervous..."

Buddy inhales sharply. "You're so cute, fuck, I coulda come right then. I'm gonna make you feel good, I told you." Another finger brushes where the skin is stretched around the first and Baby's eyes slam shut. He hadn't really considered the logistics of the act. "Daddy's gonna take care of you."

The second finger pushes in and Baby holds his breath, shocked. 

"Breathe, Baby," Buddy says in his ear.

The fingers move, press down, and a wave of sensation overtakes Baby. His breath explodes from him as Buddy keeps rubbing that same spot and he's panting almost immediately. "Buddy," he gasps, "oh..."

"Yeah," Buddy replies. "Is that good?"

The fingers start thrusting again, brushing against the spot inside of him, and Baby humps the bed. "It's good, it's good." A third finger forces it's way in but Baby doesn't care, the burning sensation is an amazing counterpoint to the orgasm that's already building. 

Getting to his knees, Buddy pushes Baby's legs apart and lowers himself so his cock brushes against Baby's hole, pushing in with agonizing slowness. "Jesus," he mutters.

It's worse than the fingers but Baby wants to make it good. He wants to be good for Buddy. So he arches, thrusting his ass back, and is rewarded with that intense sensation again bringing tears to his eyes. 

"Oh fuck, Baby, you're gonna kill me, you're so fucking perfect, fuck." Buddy drapes himself over Baby's back, just breathing heavily in his ear as he struggles to not come yet. "I want a picture," he says, and Baby shivers under him. "Lemme take a picture, Baby, I want this moment forever, I wanna jerk off to it when I can't be with you. No one'll see it, just you and me and Darling, okay?

Without thinking, Baby nods, ignoring all the reasons this is a terrible idea. If Doc somehow saw the photo, they'd be deader than dead. Buddy shifts slightly, it feels weird as hell inside of him, and then there's the familiar artificial click. 

"Turn and look at the camera, Baby," Buddy says. "Let daddy see your eyes."

Baby glances over his shoulder, eyes weepy, brows drawn together, hair mussed, face flushed. As Buddy snaps the picture he starts thrusting again and Baby grabs fistfuls of the pillow. There's another click. 

Buddy grabs the younger man's ass in his free hand, bruisingly hard. He speeds up, grunting, there's another click. "My Baby. All mine. Gonna fill you up. Fuck, you feel so good."

The sensation is peaking, it's too much. "Oh my god!" Baby cries out. "D-... don't stop, don't stop, daddy, daddy-" And then he's coming again. It's borderline painful but it's also so good he thinks he might be dying. 

Buddy's rhythm falters. "Oh shit, oh shit," he groans from behind clenched teeth, and then he's coming, too. 

Pulling out gingerly, Buddy flops next to Baby, gathering him up in his arms. Baby clings to him, shivering. He's completely wrung out, limp against Buddy's chest. There's another click and Baby looks up at the camera. Buddy kisses his forehead, click. Kisses his lips, a click once Baby kisses back. Then Buddy sets the phone down on the bed and Baby feels some tension drain out of himself.

Buddy rests his hand on Baby's head, playing with his sweaty hair, and starts humming along with the Marvin Gaye. The song switches to the Temptations and Baby is drifting off, exhausted. He's forced to wake up a little when Buddy pulls him closer and whispers in his ear, "I'm gonna take care of you, like I do Darling. I meant it, you're my Baby now." He kisses Baby's forehead. "All right, go to sleep."


	9. Chapter 9

Baby wakes up to Buddy's head between his legs. Disoriented, Baby arches his back, trying to breathe. "Oh my god," Baby gasps. He buries his hand in Buddy's hair to anchor himself. 

Pulling off, Buddy exhales and his puff of breath brushes against Baby's thigh. "We're gonna go out of dinner," he says and the surreal quality of the non sequitur leaves Baby staring. 

"What?"

Buddy leans down, licks Baby's balls, making him squirm. "I said we're gonna go out for dinner. I wanna show you off." He licks again and then his tongue is traveling lower as he shoves one of Baby's legs in the air. Baby throws his arm over his face, struggling to hold still, torn as always between how good it feels and how embarrassing it is. 

Dropping the leg, Buddy takes Baby's dick in his mouth again and starts sucking in earnest. Baby's physically exhausted, drained, sore, but it's so fucking good, he can't help responding. Writhing, Baby grabs the sheets again and Buddy grabs one of his wrist, pinning it to the bed, telling him hold still without words, and that's enough to make him come. 

He just lays there, panting, as Buddy sits up and licks his lips. "Dinner?" Baby asks. He's too tired for dinner, he just wants to lay here with his nose buried in Buddy's neck. 

"Hop to it, honey." He pats Baby's thigh then heads to the bathroom. "Get cleaned up and dressed, I'm fucking starving." He stops and grins, winks, and Baby can't helping smiling back. "You're too cute to keep locked up here, tempting though it is."

Baby slides to the edge of the bed and stops, dizzy for a minute. He can't remember the last time he drank some water, ate something. Maybe dinner isn't such a bad idea. And the thought of sitting at a table with Buddy, just the two of them, is exciting. Baby thinks about maybe slipping his hand under the table, touching Buddy's thigh, making him crazy. He thinks Buddy'll like that, he likes when Baby is forward. 

In the bathroom, Buddy hands him a new toothbrush and they stand side by side at the sink. Buddy's done first, he gets a washcloth, wets it down, and stands there expectantly. Rinsing his toothbrush, Baby glances over his shoulder at him. He's so out of his depth with all of this, he can't begin to imagine what Buddy wants. 

"Lean over the sink," Buddy purrs. 

Baby can't deny that voice what it wants. He plants his hands on the counter and waits to feel the pressure of Buddy entering him, but instead the warm washcloth runs up his legs, over his ass, gently scrubbing. It wipes down his groin next, then Buddy stands up and gently kisses Baby's neck.

The kindness of the act, the affection Baby could feel in each touch, makes him clench his fists until the knuckles are white. He absolutely cannot develop feelings, no matter what Buddy said about taking care of him.

A quick smack on the ass brings Baby out of his own head. "Go get dressed, I'll be out in a minute."

Once his sunglasses are on and his iPod singing in his ears, Baby feels a lot more grounded. More present. But when Buddy comes out, sniffing, and pulls Baby close, kisses him like he wants to devour him, he's lost again. 

The car in the garage is very sporty, a Toyota 86, and Baby almost bounces on his feet when he walks up to it. It's red. 

"I got it just for you," Buddy announces, clearly pleased with his reaction. He holds the keys out, shaking them so they jingle. 

The car roars under him and it's almost as good as kissing. Baby takes the turns hard, sometimes oversteering so they drift around corners, making Buddy holler and laugh. Baby hits the expressway, he doesn't even know where they're going, he just loves the speed. Loves how Buddy responds. 

After a bit, Buddy starts giving him directions. The restaurant is nice, dazzlingly nice. Baby reluctantly gives the keys to the valet and looks down at his sneakers, his earbud cords, painfully self-conscious. He doesn't belong here. Buddy seems at ease, but he looks just as out of place. Fading black eye, scabbed cut on his temple, pale with the air of someone on the edge of mania. They stand out like sore thumbs, but Buddy swans into the foyer. He demands the nicest table in his slick voice, slips the maître d a some folded-over bills. The top one is clearly $100. Baby tries to hide his shock. 

The table is off to the side, slightly shadowed, but with a good view of the room. It's by a huge flower arrangement full of green and ivory. Settling into his seat, Baby feels a little better, almost hidden by the darkness and the plant. Buddy takes his hand and Baby is grateful no one is looking at them. 

The menu doesn't list prices. He doesn't know what most of the things are. Baby bounces his leg, squeezing Buddy's hand. 

"Hey," Buddy says, voice pitched low, and Baby thinks of iron. "Hey. It's okay, calm down. Listen." The pause is long enough that Baby looks up at him, glancing at his eyes before looking back down at the table. "I am gonna throw so much money at this fucking place, it's gonna be like we own it. What'd you want? A burger? Grilled cheese? Order it. Order fucking fish sticks. We own them, okay?" He squeezes Baby's hand, rubs his knuckles with his calloused thumb. "We own them."

Somehow, that makes it worse. Baby struggles to figure out what the hell he's looking at on the menu. He doesn't want to cause trouble. He doesn't want trouble. Trouble means violence, usually. 

When the waiter comes in his black vest and shiny shoes, Baby's tongue is tied and he barely understands what the man is saying. The waiter's looking at him expectantly, smiling politely. 

"He wants a sprite," Buddy says. His voice is clear, cuts through the cotton stuffing Baby's head. "I want whiskey. Single malt, top shelf."

The waiter doesn't bat an eye, but Baby wants to crawl under the table. This is ridiculous. He wants to go back to the hotel room. They should have ordered room service. 

Buddy leans over the table conspiratorially. "I sent Darling some photos, she says you're sweet as a fucking pie. Says you're stuck with us now, you're too cute to let escape."

Baby blinks. Again with the possessiveness. It makes his toes curl, his heart squeeze. Not allowed. He needs to change the subject. "Where's Darling?" It almost sounds accusatory and he winces. He's not good at small talk.

"Mommy's out having some fun," Buddy says. His knee brushes Baby's. "I'm all yours. You're all mine. Just the way I want it."

The drinks come, Baby sips his soda with private relief; his thirst hits him hard then, so he sucks it down as fast as possible, eyes watering from the burning. Buddy's talking to the waiter, ordering for them both. He still hasn't let go of Baby's hand. 

Buddy sips his whiskey, holds it in his mouth for a bit before swallowing. "Now that is some good stuff." He holds the small glass up, swirling the amber liquid. "Take a sip, Baby."

"I gotta drive," Baby replies immediately. His voice sounds loud over the gentle din of the restaurant. 

Laughing, Buddy nods. "Got me there, kid. Hey. I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Wait exactly three minutes then come join me, okay?" He gets up before Baby can respond. 

Baby counts. He's probably counting too fast, but that's okay, he doubts Buddy is actually timing him. More of a not too long, not too fast thing. But Baby counts. Three minutes is about the length of Lets's Stay Together, so he starts it up on his iPod. 

The waiter asks if he wants a refill. Baby just nods, busy listening to the lyrics. He doesn't want to lose count. He gets up as Al Green sings "staying around you is all I see." And by the time Al's singing "loving you whether, whether times are good or bad," Buddy is shoving him against the bathroom wall and kissing him. 

"You remember this morning? Leaning against the sink?" Buddy rasps. He's sniffling again and his dick is hard against Baby's hip. "Get in position, honey. Face the mirror."

Baby's a little worried but does it anyway. He's not prepped for, for anything invasive. His body is getting the picture, though, he's getting aroused, pulse fluttering. They're in public. At a really fancy restaurant. This is a super bad idea. Buddy presses up behind him, places one hand over Baby's where it's gripping the marble countertop. His other hand slips over Baby's shoulder, roughly grabs his jaw, forcing him to face forward. 

"Look at us," Buddy says smugly, grinding against the younger man. "Look at how good we look together. Fuck." He reaches between them and the sound of his zipper filters through the Staple Singers. Buddy's hand comes back up and plucks an earbud out, putting it in his own ear. "You have got some good tunes, honey. Gimme your hand."

Buddy plucks Baby's hand from the counter, brings it back and wraps it around his dick.

"Feels good," Buddy says in his ear. He starts humming along with the music and it's Pavlovian, Baby relaxes, getting into it.

The door opens while Baby's stroking him and, after a second, closes again. Baby winces and tries to look through the tears starting to well up in his eyes, but Buddy's holding his jaw firmly in place. 

"They're gone, just, just look in the mirror, Baby..."

Baby looks up and meets the eyes of Buddy's reflection. The dick in his hand thickens. Buddy releases Baby's jaw and yanks his shirt up before shoving him down over the sink. His come splatters over Baby's bare back as the older man groans above him. 

Reaching over to the dispenser, Buddy grabs a couple paper towels and carefully wipes Baby off, then plants a kiss on him, right above his ass. 

Buddy's arms wrap around Baby and pull him up into an embrace. "I just can't look at you without getting hard, Baby Love." He covers Baby's face in kisses, his cheeks and his forehead and his eyelids and the tip of his nose. "Let's go have some grub, I'm starving."

All throughout dinner--a very high-end version of macaroni and cheese with lobster--Baby keeps wondering who it was that saw them together. No one's staring, not that he can tell. He wants to go back to the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future chapters might include some attempted rape. Will that bother anyone too much?
> 
> Edit: to clarify, there might be some situations with Buddy that are borderline dub-con. But more than that, I want Buddy and/or Darling to come to Baby's rescue when someone gets too aggressive with Baby.


	10. Chapter 10

By the time they get back to the hotel, it's nearing midnight. Buddy lays him out, peels their clothes off, picks Barry White for him on his iPod, and gently strokes him off while they both listen. Exhausted beyond reason, Baby passes out more than he falls asleep, Buddy wrapped around him like an octopus. 

In the morning, Buddy orders them room service and Baby sucks his dick after the waiter leaves. 

They pull up to the same block as last time. The 86 purrs beneath him and Baby takes a minute to pat the door, sad that he's probably never going to see it again. 

"I don't want you to go," Buddy says, voice muffled as he rubs his face with his hands. Baby stares at his hands, the veins and tendons, the bracelets he wears. His knuckles scarred from a thousand punches. The hands move and Buddy grabs Baby's jaw, reminiscent of last night, and Baby gives a little huff as his heart starts to race. "I don't want you to go. I... I want you to pack a bag and come home with me. To stay. Do you understand me?"

Baby licks his lips. "I can't. My foster dad needs me." It sounds ridiculous. Such a quaint reason in the path of such a monumental earth-shaking request. Buddy's thumb slides across Baby's bottom lip, chasing after the tip of his tongue, before slipping in, running across his bottom teeth. 

"Text me," Buddy murmurs, staring at Baby's mouth as if hypnotized. "As often as you can. Pictures. Bad jokes. I don't fucking care." He waits until Baby nods. "I want to see you tomorrow. I want. I don't know. I want to see you. We'll figure out the rest later." 

Baby nods again. He wants to see Buddy, too. Now that he knows it'll be that long before he sees the older man, now that it's sinking in, even though it's just a matter of hours, he feels something akin to panic. He runs his tongue over the pad of Buddy's thumb, trying to taste him. The hand withdraws and Buddy gathers him up in his arms. No kissing, no desperation or aggression, just warmth and the smell of leather and cologne. Buddy's arms are like steel bands around Baby, like armor, it's safe and quiet in this little rumbling bubble. Baby could almost believe the things Buddy has been saying, "want" and "mine" and "forever." 

When Buddy finally lets him go, Baby blinks over and over, trying to ignore the burning behind his eyes, the lump in his throat. The blinking makes everything look like a strobe light in a haunted house. 

It's painful, grabbing the door handle. It's even worse getting out of the car. Buddy stares at him through the tinted glass, brows furrowed. He looks as unhappy about this as Baby feels.

And then he pulls away from the curb and blends into the flow of traffic. 

Baby feels like he's walking through fog. His brain is fried. Everything is the same, he knows that logically, but it's like he's slipped halfway out of reality. He's shocked when his keys fit in the door locks. Shocked when Joe is sitting there, watching tv. Shocked the world hasn't imploded. 

Joe signs: where have you been? Work?

The lump is in Baby's throat again. He signs: sort of. 

Joe's eyes widen, his face worried. Signs: don't mix work and pleasure, that never ends well.

All Baby can do is shrug, he doesn't have the energy for a discussion. From the dirty plate by the sink it's clear Joe's eaten, so Baby just drifts into his bedroom and collapses on his bed. The pillow smells like him, not Buddy, and he can't stand it; he grabs his shirt and sniffs it, trying to figure out if Buddy's cologne might be lingering on him. He can almost smell it. Or maybe he's just hallucinating it. 

He's half asleep when his burner phone goes off. A text from Buddy: miss you so bad already.

This time Baby doesn't bother blinking back the tears. Instead, he berates himself. This is insane, they only spent one night together. He tells himself that of course he feels like he's in love, sex releases chemicals that give you that feeling. Or it's exhaustion making him emotional. He tells himself Buddy is married and it doesn't matter if Darling consented to Buddy fooling around, that's all it is. All he is.

Baby grabs his phone even as his inner voice yells at him. He can't help it. His fingers are getting quicker on the keys. He texts: I miss you too, a lot.

Hopefully that's not too pathetic, he tells himself.

He falls asleep clutching his phone. 

Around four he wakes up from his nap. Two texts. One from Buddy: send me a photo. Another from an unknown number, but it's pretty clear who it is. Darling's text: he's moping around and it's so fucking cute. Then a little blowing-kiss emoji. 

Baby stares at the messages. He's not sure what to make of Darling's, there's about a thousand ways to interpret it. For lack of a better response, he just sends: sorry. 

Then he snaps a quick photo of himself. His hair's a mess, his eyes red, there's a line on his face from where he slept on his bunched up blanket. It seems appropriate. It could be interpreted in a thousand ways too, though he's not quite sure how he wants Buddy to interpret it. 

After he sends the photo, he finds the phone Doc gave him. He left it plugged in to charge while he was gone. Snatching it from his nightstand, Baby puts it back in its box and stuffs it in his jacket pocket, makes sure his burner is in his jeans pocket, and heads to the door. Joe just waves at him without bothering to see if he's signing anything, so Baby shrugs and locks the door behind himself. 

The phone plan is pretty basic and that suits him just fine. As soon as he gets out of the store, he adds Buddy's phone number to the Contacts. Then adds the mysterious number with the name "Darling?" just in case. 

No new messages on the burner, so he quickly deletes the texts and then checks the camera roll. There's the photo from today but there's other photos. Baby thought Buddy was only taking photos with his own phone but apparently not. There's one of them fucking, Buddy buried deep in his ass, hand clutching his hip. He must have held the phone up high in his right hand, part of his face is visible and the swirling script of his neck tattoo. Then three photos of Baby asleep, Buddy laying next to him, grinning, kissing his temple. 

Baby sends the photos to his new phone then deletes them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO EXCITED. I commissioned an artist for Baby and Buddy cuddling together and I AM SOOOO PSYCHED! I'll share it with you all when it's done!


	11. Chapter 11

Baby's working on his Buddy mix when the phone rings. The burner. He opens it and sees there's two new messages; he forgot to tell Buddy about his new phone. First the call though. 

A new job. Doc's voice is always so pleasant, almost light, as if he's about to start laughing. It's been like that as long as Baby's known him, right up to the point he starts threatening someone. Baby tries to remind himself of that when he agrees to this job. 

The two texts are both from Buddy: don't give me that sad face, Baby Love, I can't stand it, it breaks my heart. Send me a smile, tell me you love me. I can't wait to kiss that pretty face tomorrow.

Baby runs his fingers over the sleek screen of his new phone. It's one thing, laying in his bed denying the word in the privacy of his own thoughts, but to say it out loud. To say it to Buddy, directly. That makes it real, makes it more than just self-delusion. Besides which, it's not like Buddy ever said it. He calls him "Baby Love" but that's not quite the same. Does Buddy know what he's asking? 

Deleting the texts from the burner, he unlocks his phone and starts a new message. To the unknown number: is this Darling?

The response is quick: yeah, what's up, kiddo?

Baby's thumbs hover over the keyboard. What is up. Good question. He needs advice. He needs help from someone that knows Buddy. But there's a lot of things to consider. If he tells her how he feels, how he feels about her husband for crying out loud, what if... what if she laughs. What if Buddy calls it off. What if.

Why is this so complicated?

He texts her: how does Buddy feel about me?

Her response is, somehow, even faster than the last: ohhhh my gooooood you're so cute I swear to god. Baby we both love you and think you're just the fucking bee's knees okay? Look at this, hold on.

After a few seconds, she sends a photo. He can see Darling's bare legs stretched out from behind the camera. And in the distance, a couch with Buddy sort of flopped all over it, slouched down with his head on the arm of it, looking at the camera curiously. 

Before Baby can reply, she sends another text: I told you he's fucking moping! He said you're gonna live with us, that's gonna be so fucking cute, we're gonna play dress up. You ever wear panties before?

Then a series of winky faces and sparkling hearts. 

Baby spins his thumb around his iPod before selecting a track. The clicks are soothing. While Stevie Wonder croons "signed, sealed, delivered, I'm yours," Baby takes a photo of himself by his keyboard. Smiling seems weird even though there's a feeling of relief flooding him, so he deadpans it despite Buddy's request. 

Opening a message to him, Baby texts: this is my permanent number, I got a phone.

He hesitates over whether to add more, quickly types: I wanted to be able to save our photos. 

That feels better. He includes the photo and sends it. He works for a few more minutes on his Buddy track, hears the ding of his new phone. He might have to add that sound to the track, too. 

Text from Buddy: I have all our photos, I've been looking at them, I wanna print them and pin them on the walls. Tell me something sweet, honey. 

Baby's pretty sure Buddy is joking about printing the photos, but then again the man is clearly prone to fits of drama. He thinks about the photo on his phone of them fucking, tries to imagine seeing it all over the wall; while a blush spreads across his cheeks, he also starts to get hard. He imagines Buddy inside him while making him stare at the photos. 

Baby races to the bathroom, locks the door and leans against it. He sends back: I'm getting excited thinking about you. 

Opening his jeans, he slides his hand in to squeeze himself. He thinks about Buddy doing this to him the other night, the first time he touched him, and his pulse skyrockets. 

Buddy's text back arrives: oh yeah? And what're you gonna do about it, Baby Love. 

Baby knows what to do. Biting his lip, he tugs his jeans down to the middle of his thighs, freeing his dick. He wraps his free hand around it and gently strokes while extending his other arm out, snapping a photo. Baby takes a minute to review the photo before sending it. It's badly framed, most of the space is taken up by his t-shirt, but the lower half of his face is visible, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his arm position makes it obvious what he's doing. 

He sends the photo without text. 

Opening his camera roll, Baby stares at the photo of them together, the muscles in Buddy's neck and shoulders, his fingertips turning white from the intensity of his grip, the thick trail of hair down his chest. 

The notification for a new message from Buddy drops down: oh fuck honey you are so good, you know just what daddy wants. 

Baby bites down to keep from whining as he comes and a bitter copper taste invades his mouth. He takes a second to just breath then goes to the mirror, checking his bloody lip. Ripping a piece of paper towel off the roll, he dabs his lip until the bleeding stops then cleans up the mess he left on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS OMGGGG
> 
> http://questionartbox.tumblr.com/post/163271522255/commission-for-fangirlingicizing-art-blog
> 
> It's PG but it's so perfect. Ohhh my goooood. By the way, my tumblr is fangirlingicizing.tumblr.com if you want to come say hi. Leave prompts and I might write a little something. Or just squeal with me about Baby being a precious smol son.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note this chapter contains attempted rape.

There's a knock on the door in the morning. Not a lot of people stop by, mostly neighbors to complain about Baby's music. Or the landlord to deliver a complaint he received about Baby's music. The thing is, they know to use the doorbell. Years ago Baby saw a device in a catalog that flashes when someone rings the doorbell. Baby rigged one up, easing his guilt about leaving Joe alone to go out and rob banks.

So, no one knocks. And especially not this early. 

The peephole doesn't show anything, just darkness. Baby's not sure if something happened to it or if the person outside is covering it. 

"Who is it?" he calls through the door. The response is low and muffled, so Baby plucks an earbud out and asks, "who?"

Again a muffled response. It sounds a little like the older guy down on the second floor, the one whose little terrier gets loose. Or could be a delivery person. Sometimes Joe likes to do a little shopping from home. One of the words almost sounded like "package."

Baby opens the door and stares at the man on the other side. He looks familiar. Neatly trimmed beard, neck tattoos, misshapen nose from an old break. The incongruous sight of him in this hallway, outside this door, makes it briefly impossible to place him.

"Well lookie who I found! Beanpole!" the other man grits out between clenched teeth. 

Before Baby can open his mouth, Griff barrels in, grabbing a fistful of Baby's hair, his other hand wrapping around the back of Baby's neck. Kicking the door closed with his foot, Griff shoves him into the living room where Baby ends up sprawled on the wood floor.

Baby tries to get his feet under him but Griff kicks him, sending him flat on his back. Briefly, Baby is thankful Joe isn't a morning person, instead probably still sound asleep.

Griff crouches next to him and Baby holds perfectly still, watching the man from the corner of his eyes. "So, beanpole. I'm out bar hopping and this little red car grabs my eye, right? And out pops Buddy right there across the street. And I say to myself, shit, Darling can't be far behind, that crazy bitch. But no, out pops you! Our driver. So I say to myself, but Griff, we aren't suppose to fuckin' socialize outside of our little side jobs! I start wondering, what if these two are planning a side job of their own. What would Doc make of that, I wonder."

It's a struggle to not argue, but if he tried to argue then he'd have to explain what he and Buddy were doing there-

"Pay attention!" Griff snarls. He slaps Baby with one of his massive hands and everything grays out for a second. The pain isn't immediate but comes after a second, rushing in, hot, bright. Something feels off and Baby realizes his other earbud fell out. The ringing is louder from the slap. "So I follow you into the bathroom and god damn do I get an eyeful. I'd say that's some serious socializing, wouldn't you?"

Baby tastes blood in his mouth. The cut where he bit himself opened up. Licking the blood off his lips, Baby glares at Griff and asks, "what do you want?"

"Shit! It's just all business with you, ain't it? Though, that's not even true." Griff grabs a fistful of Baby's hair again, starts to yank him so he's sitting up all the way, and it's agony, it feels like every strand is about to be pulled out by the root. Baby reflexively grabs at Griff's wrists as the man shakes him like a wet towel. "So tell me, Baby," he spits like the name is rotten in his mouth, "how much is it worth for me to not tell Doc you're catchin' what Buddy's pitchin'?"

"I don't have any money!" Baby gasps, trying not to think about the stash under the floorboard, hoping the homely nature of the apartment proves his point. 

Griff growls, honest to god growls like a wild animal, and shakes Baby again. This time Baby can't help it, he gives a soft cry of pain. "Listen to me, you fucking moron, you better figure out..." He trails off and that's even more terrifying than the yelling. "Well I know you got some talents other than driving." Griff leans closer to Baby, pitches his gravelly voice lower. "What do you say? Hey, he fuck you yet?"

Baby lets go of Griff's arm and goes for his eyes, fingers hooked like claws. He gets a couple good scratches in, feels the skin jammed under his fingernails, but Griff lets go of his hair and this time punches him, putting his body behind the hit; Baby collapses on the floor, a flash of static fills his head, the ringing turns into a shriek. His brain feels like vibrating mush.

Big hands are on him, shoving his shirt up, unbuttoning his jeans, and Baby shrieks. He can barely hear it. A heavy weight is on his legs, the sound of Griff's voice is in his ear, but it's impossible to understand the words. Baby tries to claw again, hoping to scratch something vital, but Griff just gathers both wrists in one of his meathook hands and pins them down on the cold floor. His other hand is wriggling down the front of his jeans and Baby screams-

-and the weight is gone. The hand is gone.

Baby opens his eyes, not sure when he closed them, and sees Buddy looming over him, mouth moving, fear and anger written so strongly across his face that Baby flinches. He's talking but it's still mostly noise, though some of it is getting clearer. Buddy helps him sit up, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and Baby glances around, confused. 

He looks over, sees Darling standing over Griff's dead body, and the world grays out again. 

There's a lot of talking, there's a lot of activity, a lot of footsteps. Baby doesn't know how long he's laying on the floor. Oddly enough, he sees Joe's old wheelchair go past, he wants to warn them about the broken leg rest, but then Buddy is helping him to his feet and out the door. Darling is there, she's got Baby's keys, she locks the door behind them before taking the lead down the hall. Buddy's arm is around his waist and it feels nice. 

"Where we goin'?" Baby asks and he's surprised at how drunk he sounds. 

The elevator doors open and Buddy helps him in. "Home, Baby Love." He kisses Baby's cheek but then Darling is wheeling someone into the elevator on the old, broken wheelchair, and Baby realizes it's Griff and almost screams. Except Griff isn't moving, he's very still, slumped to the side, with a hat he didn't have earlier on his head. It's one of Joe's hats. Baby is starting to catch on, thinks maybe he doesn't want to see what's under the hat. 

They're parked on the street, it's an old boat of a Lincoln. Buddy opens the passenger door and helps Baby in, even fastening his seatbelt, and then like magic he has an iPod in his hands. "You had a shit ton of them, I dunno if this is the right one, but here." Baby takes the iPod and is surprised to see his hands are shaking. "Okay, honey, listen, I gotta stay here and clean up. What's your dad's name? I don't wanna scare him."

"Uh. Joe." Baby blinks. Cleanup. 

"All right, well mommy's gonna take you home and I'll catch up." Before Baby can reply, the car door closes and the back one opens.

Darling's voice carries from the sidewalk. "God damn this asshole is heavy..."

There's a noise, Baby turns and sees Griff laying in the backseat with his face smashed against the vinyl. Baby shivers and quickly turns to his iPod, shoving his earbuds in.

Darling gets in the front seat and starts the car. They pull smoothly away from the curb, Buddy waving from the sidewalk with the empty wheelchair. 

"That wheelchair's broken," Baby says out of the blue. He meant to tell them that earlier. His head is still spinning from being hit. 

"No shit!" Darling laughs. "His foot kept dragging on the floor, we kept putting it up, it'd fall off and start dragging again. Some real Weekend at Bernie's bullshit."

His music starts up, House of the Rising Sun, and Baby feels a little better. "What's Weekend at Bernie's?"

Darling glances at him, frowning. "Damn you really are a baby. Old movie, forget it."

"Is Joe okay?" If his foster dad isn't, it's all his fault. His heart flutters.

"Well shit I hope so. You know he didn't come out and check on you? We heard you yelling from the hallway!"

"He's deaf."

Darling laughs again. She takes them on the expressway, stays in the right line, going nice and slow. She doesn't want any attention. "That explains a lot. I think he's fine, Baby. We're just gonna go home and relax and then Buddy's gonna come home and we can all forget this ever happened. Okay?"

The Animals end, Sam & Dave start up, singing Hold On I'm Comin'. "Okay." Baby closes his eyes so he's not tempted to look in the backseat. He can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, have some Baby Driver fanart! What's the ship name? Babby? That's kind of cute. 
> 
> http://questionartbox.tumblr.com/post/163271522255/commission-for-fangirlingicizing-art-blog
> 
> Also. This is sort of a trope-y work, I know. But it's super self-indulgent and I'm hoping it's good enough that y'all ignore my heavy use of cliched scenarios... Please forgive this humble writer...
> 
> Thank you for all your comments, I love each and every one of you.


	13. Chapter 13

"You eat yet?" Darling asks as she leads him up the steps of a ritzy apartment building. Everything looks new and clean, the hallway all shades of white and cream and eggshell. 

"Uh, no." Baby glances behind them, not sure what he expects to see. Flashing police lights, Buddy, Griff's corpse. Something. Instead it's peaceful. Marvin Gaye plays in his ears. "What about Griff?"

Darling unlocks the door to a huge, two-story apartment. What was once probably a very expensive place is trashed. There's old takeout containers and cans on the glass table in the living area. Clothes are laying around, shoes scattered, crumpled shopping bags, all manner of electronics plugged in haphazard in different outlets. On the island in the kitchen, there's a lot of drug paraphernalia. Baby averts his eyes, uncomfortable, only to end up staring at the handguns sitting on an end table. 

"Buddy's gonna handle Griff after he cleans the blood and stuff up at your place. Look, I'm fucking starving." From one topic to the next without a bat of an eye. She seems completely unfazed after having a shot a man to death, just goes to the fridge and starts rummaging around. "We came to take you out for some fun. What the hell was Griff doing there?" She emerges with a styrofoam container of what appears to be pasta. 

Baby notices one end of the couch looks relatively unstained and free of clutter. He sits down; his legs feel like the noodles Darling's neatly eating. "He saw me and Buddy. Wanted money." Baby doesn't elaborate, doesn't have the energy to, and Darling seems to understand. She just nods and keeps eating. 

"Could be worse." Darling tosses the last of the pasta into the overflowing trash, grabs a mug from the countertop, pours coffee from a stained pot. She adds sugar but leaves it black. "Coulda been someone Doc actually likes, you know? Griff won't be a big deal. That dumb asshole pissed everyone off. Want something to drink?"

Now that he's sitting, almost relaxing, his head is killing him. The spot where Griff punched is so tender he can't even stand thinking about it, he can feel his heartbeat in his cheek. Maybe something's broken. "Can I have some aspirin or something?"

Darling perks up, snaps her fingers. "Oh shit! Of course! Aw damn, Baby, he got real rough?" She disappears down a nearby hall into what is presumably the bathroom. The sharp rattling sound of a bottle of pills reaches his ears. "We should have fucked that asshole up. I killed him too quick." She returns to the kitchen then walks over to Baby, a glass of water in hand. Shoving some junk off of the couch, she settles in next to him and tucks one denim-clad leg up underneath herself. "What'd he do to you anyway?"

Baby swallows the pills, washes them down. He's not sure where to put the glass so he drinks all the water and just holds it in his hands. He didn't have a chance to grab his sunglasses, he wishes he had them on. "Punched me."

Darling sighs and leans closer, stroking Baby's hair. "Well that fuckhole can't hurt you anymore. Daddy and Mommy took care of it."

Setting the glass down, Baby sort of looks at her, studying her shoulder, the fuzzy pinkness of her sweater. "Are you and I gonna..." The question dies in his mouth. How is he supposed to even phrase the rest of that. He hadn't considered the fact that Darling and Buddy might be a package deal.

Darling laughs. "As cute as you are, you're not my type. I don't really go for the soiled innocence thing, you know? But Buddy? It makes him wild. Oh my god, I have got a brilliant fucking idea. But seriously you should eat first. Buddy's gonna be gone for bit."

The leaps in conversation leave Baby breathless. He sits there as Darling goes to the kitchen again. The fridge door opens enough that Baby can see inside now; it's just more takeout containers, cans of beer, and bottles of condiments. She pops a few lids to check the contents until she finds one she approves of. Back to the couch with Chinese food and chopsticks, trading them for the empty water glass.

"I don't know how to use those," Baby says quietly, embarrassed. He always uses a fork when he brings home Chinese for Joe. 

Darling laughs again; her laughter never feels mocking, she just seems to think everything is funny. "You're such a cutie," she says as she sets the food down and takes Baby's hand in hers, positioning his fingers around the chopstick. It's awkward and he keeps dropping the noodles, but most of the food is making it into his mouth. 

They don't speak, Baby eats and Darling checks her phone. She snaps a picture of him which is awkward but he ignores it. 

"Look!" Darling turns her phone so Baby can see the screen. It's Buddy, posing in the backseat of the car next to a floppy Griff, fingers up in a peace sign. Griff's hat is askew and Baby can see the blood all over his face, matted in his beard. It looks dry and flakey. The Chinese food in his stomach rolls and he turns away. Darling makes a hm noise, types for a bit, then she snatches the empty box and chopsticks. "Buddy'll be home soon enough and we have work to do." 

She grabs his hand, leads him up a set of stairs to a loft. There's a couple of mattresses stacked on top of each other with silk sheets and fluffy white comforters. Rolling racks of clothes surround it along with more empty bottles and cans. Baby's overwhelmed by the sheer variety. It looks like it's mostly Darling's with clothes of every kind of color and texture, fur and sequins and leather, all incredibly expensive looking. He stands awkwardly while she goes to a pile of frilly-looking things on the floor.

"Drop trou," Darling calls over her shoulder. 

Baby watches her for a second before toeing his shoes off for lack of a better option. He yanks his t-shirt over his head, drops it on top of his sneakers. By the time he's down to his underwear, Darling stands up, a small pile of pastel lace in her hands. Baby blushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just realized at the beginning of chapter 11 I accidentally included a note I made for myself for later chapters and OMGGGG I AM SO EMBARRASSEDDDDD ;_;


	14. Chapter 14

The door opens, Baby can hear it from where he's laying on the bed. Darling told him to wait there before she left, said he'd be more comfortable. The sheets are definitely silk. He keeps rubbing his one hand over them while fiddling with his iPod with the other. Darling had gone through his music, told Baby he listened to some weird shit, then chose Jimi Hendrix. 

Now Smith is playing, crooning "baby, it's you," and Buddy is coming up the stairs. 

Baby sits up, heart racing. Darling promised him that Buddy would like the surprise, but it's still sort of scary. And exciting. His dick is already getting hard, pressing against the pale blue lace of the panties Darling loaned him.

Their eyes meet as Buddy finishes climbing the stairs. He's grinning his slick half-smile, the corner of his mouth curling. "Darling told me you had a present for me." He stands at the top of the steps and Baby can see his hands keep clenching and unclenching. "Stand up, Baby Love, let me see."

Baby's legs are still wobbly from earlier as he stands, but it's as if he can't remember why, not with that intense gaze on him. He's wearing Buddy's dress shirt, buttoned all the way up, and under it the panties. Nothing else. The shirt fits him surprisingly well so he's not fully covered, he knows Buddy can see the lacy underwear peeking out. 

"Fuck," Buddy groans. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up, but doesn't step closer. He just stands there, staring, and Baby blushes. "Damn, honey, you look so good. So good for your daddy." Finally he walks towards Baby and it's hypnotic, the slow way he strolls forward. 

Buddy's arms slide around his back and pull him close. His kisses devour Baby, biting his lips, licking into his mouth; all he can do is submit to the relentless force of it. At the same time, Buddy's hands slide down his back, grab his ass, squeeze. 

"Holy shit," Buddy gasps against his mouth as he rubs his palms in circles over Baby's ass. He takes a step back, starts unbuttoning the dress shirt. "All this just for me. Take this shirt off and let me see how pretty you are."

Baby's fingers tremble a little as he lets the shirt drop to the floor. He looks down, watches his toes curl and uncurl, trying to ignore the way his dick looks trapped under the delicate lace, stretching them. They're riding up in the back, he can feel his ass sticking out of the bottom of them. When he gathers enough courage to glance up, Buddy is undressing and rock hard.

"Get on the bed," Buddy pants, his voice dipping low and raw. His eyes are flat, face blank, and Baby's almost a little afraid. 

Stretching out, Baby props himself up on his elbows and watches as Buddy kneels on the mattress and crawls towards him. The way his head hangs low between his shoulders as they dip and lift reminds Baby of wild animals and he wishes he was at least under the covers. Less exposed. 

Buddy stops by the time he gets to Baby's legs and drops his head, bends his elbows like he's about to do a push-up. His breath gusts over the top of Baby's foot and then he's nibbling at his ankle. He bites Baby's calves, presses wet kisses to his knees, licks up his thighs. When he gets to the panties, Buddy audibly groans before mouthing at Baby's dick through the lace. His tongue works over him, hot and wet and sloppy, soaking the blue lace. 

Baby squirms but doesn't take his eyes off of the older man. His muscles bunch, the tendons in his neck shift, his hair flops over to caress Baby's hips. Buddy teases him with the tip of his tongue and Baby sucks in a shaky breath. 

"You're so fucking cute, Jesus Christ. Talk to me, Baby Love," Buddy growls as he moves the lace to one side, freeing Baby's dick. He shifts the panties further and leans down, licking his balls before moving up to take Baby's cock in his mouth. 

"I don't know what to say," Baby says, struggling to not thrust up into that heat. "F-... feels good..." He runs his fingers through Buddy's hair, messing it up further, needing to touch him. "Feels so good, daddy."

Buddy grunts at that, stops sucking him, covering him again with the panties, then moves up, kissing him so hard Baby's head is driven back into the pillow. He bites his neck, his earlobes, hard enough to leave bruises. Baby swallows back his cries, only sobs the slightest bit. "I can't stand it," Buddy says in his rough animal voice. "I can't fucking stand it. I wanna... oh, I wanna mess you up."

Getting on his knees, Buddy shuffles until he's next to Baby's head, lifts his leg so he's straddling his neck, practically sitting on his chest. Grabbing his dick, Buddy rubs it along Baby's lips, smearing them with precome. When Baby opens his mouth, Buddy shoves two fingers in, pressing down on his tongue and slipping back far enough that Baby gags; as Baby's eyes water, streaking down to soak his hair, Buddy feeds him his dick, using his fingers to push his mouth open further. 

"Fuck! Fuck." Buddy leans forward, shallowly thrusts. "You're so pretty, you're my good Baby, aren't you. So cute. Look good in blue. Fuck.  
Gonna. Gonna buy you blue. Buy you all sorts of clothes. Buy you panties. Want you in 'em every time we're together. Wanna stick my fucking hand in your jeans and feel them."

Baby tries to keep still but jumps a little every time he gags. Buddy's starting to thrust deeper now, it's difficult to breathe, and Baby's hard as a rock. He doesn't want to touch his own dick, he's afraid he'll come too quick; he only wants to come if Buddy is touching him. 

When Buddy moves away, he lays next to Baby and gathers him up in his arms, kissing him, rolling so Baby's on top.

Buddy fumbles under the pillows for a minute and pulls out a small plastic bottle; he flicks it open with left hand, pours some of it out on his right. Lube. He reaches back, slides his fingers under the panties, slips his finger in without any hesitation. Baby whimpers. It's as weird as last time except now he knows how good it can feel. 

Pushing back against that finger, Baby lets his mouth drop open. "Please, daddy," he whines. "Need you." He looks down at Buddy's face and is relieved to see the flat look is gone. Instead, he looks warm and alive and enthralled, looks almost like he's in pain but grinning. Baby feels emboldened by that look. "More."

A second finger pushes its way in and Baby remembers that burn now, and then those finger brush the spot inside him and it's like electricity buzzing through him. 

"Daddy," he pants, rocking back and forth, chasing the feeling. "Daddy, please." He doesn't know what else to say, so he leans down and kisses Buddy instead, loving the burn of his stubble rubbing against his face. 

"Can't, can't wait," Buddy pants, pulling his fingers out. More lube, and then Buddy is forcing his dick in. It's nearly painful but he's slow and careful until he's all the way in, his hips pressing against Baby's ass. "Baby Love, can you get yourself off this way? I wanna see you come in those panties, I wanna see you mess them up."

Baby shifts, lifting up a tiny bit before lowering himself, and Buddy arches his back, eyelashes fluttering. Baby does it again, it feels awkward but he likes seeing the way the older man reacts. Leaning forward onto his hands, Baby starts fucking himself on Buddy's dick in earnest, trying to find the spot that feels so amazing. 

"Oh my god," Buddy groans. "Holy shit, Baby, you're so perfect, look at you, so pretty." Buddy's dick rubs against the spot and Baby loses his rhythm from the overwhelming sensation. "That feel good, Baby Love? You like my cock in you?"

Baby has it now, Buddy's dick keeps hitting that place inside of him. Wave after wave of burning electricity. His skin feels over-sensitive, he moves his hands to Buddy's chest so he can touch every muscle, every scar. "Daddy..."

Buddy's hands lock around his hips and take over the motion, helping Baby to lift and drop. "Say it, Baby," he snarls. He thrusts up, lifting his hips off the bed, hitting that spot over and over until Baby thinks he's going to lose his mind. "Say you love me, say it."

Blinking, Baby's face burns as it flushes. That word again. Right now. 

With one hand Buddy reaches up and grabs a fistful of Baby's hair, pulling his head down until it rests on Buddy's shoulder; the other hand pushes his hip until Baby is on his knees. Buddy starts fucking into him furiously and that incredible pleasure is getting overwhelming, his body feels like it's on fire. 

"Say it, fuck, say it, Baby," Buddy pants in his ear. 

Baby buries his face in Buddy's neck, smelling his unique scent of leather and cologne and sweat and gunpowder. He ignores the tears he's rubbing into the other man's skin. "Love you," Baby chokes out. "Love you, daddy- ah, l- ah..." Clutching Buddy's shoulders, Baby starts to come, soaking the panties with it.

Buddy wraps his arms around Baby, holding him close, and his rhythm starts to falter. "Love you, Baby," he grits out. "Mine. Mine. Love you." He stops moving, buried all the way inside, shuddering as he comes. 

Lifting his head, Baby kisses Buddy, furiously, over and over. Still inside of him, Buddy kisses back while he gently strokes Baby's ass, fingering the panties where they're pushed to the side. 

"Say it again," Buddy whispers between kisses.

Baby blinks the tears from his eyes. "Love you, daddy."

Buddy's eyelashes flutter as if he's coming again and he grins. "Love you, Baby, fuck I love you so much. Told you I'm gonna take care of you. Do you mean it?"

Baby's surprised to find he does mean it. Wholeheartedly. It's terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized that in chapter 11 I accidentally included my notes for future chapters... IM SO SORRY ;_; ughhhhh


	15. Chapter 15

They spend time in bed together. Baby loves the silk sheets, he can't stop moving so they'll slide across his skin. He ends up wriggling out of Buddy's grasp, making him laugh and reach out to hook an arm around Baby's waist and drag him back. Baby turns onto his side and they lay, face to face, Buddy stroking his cheek, his forehead, his neck, his hair. Anything he can reach, Buddy touches. It feels decadent, laying there, getting pet. The touches are affectionate and the look on Buddy's face is adoring. It makes Baby feel like he can't breathe though, his chest hurts, feels too small.

"Did you mean it?" Baby asks apprehensively. His voice is barely audible. He doesn't want the answer but he has to know. Because he meant it. 

Buddy narrows his eyes in confusion, searching Baby's face until Baby has to look away. "Yeah I fucking meant it." He grips the back of Baby's neck, not too hard, just possessive. "Listen, I love you. I'm fucking crazy about you. You're mine. Didn't you mean it?"

Heat behind Baby's eyes, pressure in his throat. It's a struggle to speak. "I meant it." He reaches out blindly because his eyes are swimming, runs his hands across Buddy's chest. As if reading his mind, the older man pulls him close, resting his chin on top of Baby's head. "Don't lie to me. Don't say you mean it and, and leave me in a month."

"I won't," Buddy says, the words emphatic. "I'm never gonna leave you. I said you're mine and I fucking mean it. I'd die for you and Darling, Baby Love. I'd kill for you."

Baby takes a little time to just breathe, swallowing down the hot lump in his throat. It feels so nice laying here together, Buddy's skin is even better than the silk. Baby shifts his legs to rub against the other man's, and just like that he's already getting a little excited. But he doesn't want sex, not yet, right now he just wants to lay here and feel things. Feel Buddy. 

"Hey," Buddy peppers the top of Baby's head with kisses between words. "Your foster dad was fine. I was done before he woke up so I checked on him, he was sleeping soundly. He gonna be okay alone?" 

"Yeah, the apartment's set up so he'll be okay. I'll check on him after I leave."

"I know you got a meeting with Doc later," Buddy says. Baby tilts his head back to look at him. "We got the call too. You're always the driver, so I just figured."

Baby grips Buddy's biceps, digging in his fingers. "Doc can't know. Doc can't know about us." His eyebrows must be furrowed because Buddy presses his thumb there, smoothing the skin. 

"Don't worry, I know the rules." Buddy kisses him, pulls him closer until their bodies are flush together. "All right, forget I mentioned it. Listen, what else I said? I'm gonna buy you some shit. Clothes. Shoes. Sunglasses. iPods. Whatever you want." He lifts his head so he's closer to Baby's ear. "And lots and lots of lacy panties. You look too good in 'em." 

Baby blushes, his dick hardens and he squirms, tries to keep from thrusting against Buddy's hip.

"Go ahead, Baby Love," Buddy whispers. "You know I like watching you come. Go ahead." He tugs at the hair at Baby's nape and Baby can't help but arch, rubbing against him. Buddy keeps whispering in his ear. "No fucking anyone else, either. All right? Your cute blushes and that soft ass and these little tits-" He pinches Baby's nipple, making him gasp. "This is all mine. I'll kill anyone that looks at you. I'll give you what you need. Daddy knows what you need. Go on, tell me you'll be good."

Baby licks his lips, humping Buddy with urgency now. "I'll be good. Only you."

"Again."

"Only you," Baby moans. He's almost there. "Love you. Only you. Love you." As he comes, Buddy strokes his hip and tells him how much he loves him too. 

Baby drowses happily while Buddy studies his face from inches away with lidded, sleepy eyes. He briefly wakes up to see Buddy taking photos of him, especially from an angle so the underwear will be visible. Baby drops back off to sleep, content. 

They decide to go out for lunch after their quick nap. Buddy finds a clean pair of Darling's panties for Baby.

Before they leave the apartment, Buddy stops him. "Got something else I want you to wear." He unwinds a doubled-up bracelet from his wrist, thicker brown stones with little ones in between; Buddy wraps it around Baby's wrist, knots it so it won't come of. Baby shakes his wrist and the stones make a satisfying clattering sound. It makes Baby feel owned but in a nice way, like a collar around his neck. Or a ring on his finger. 

They eat at a pizza joint and Baby gets a small pizza to take home to Joe. Buddy drives him home and it occurs to Baby to wonder how he knew where he lived this morning. He's a little afraid of the answer. 

"I'll see you at the meeting," Buddy says. "You should spend the night tonight after it, though, so bring whatever you need. You can cuddle up between me and Darling." Baby nods mutely. It sounds really nice. Peaceful. "All right, Baby Love. Give daddy a kiss."

Baby hugs Buddy so hard he almost climbs into the driver's seat. "Don't wanna go," he finds himself murmuring as he buries his face in Buddy's neck. His favorite spot. 

Chuckling, Buddy strokes his back, kisses the parts of Baby's face he can reach. "So cute. You're gonna be the death of me." When Baby goes to kiss him, Buddy returns it with passion, one hand slipping down into Baby's jeans to feel the lace hidden there. "Text me. You know I can't stand not hearing from my Baby Love."

Baby spends the rest of the afternoon watching tv with Joe and thinking about playlists. He needs to start making some Buddy-centric playlists. He needs one for when Buddy goes crazy because Baby is wearing lace. He tries to think of songs that make him feel pretty. He plays Baby Let Me Take You, then How Sweet It Is.

He only glances at the place Griff died a few times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pfft when they went out to dinner and Baby was not comfortable  
> https://instagram.com/p/2J25alrNaL/  
> Last chapter with the dress shirt? https://goo.gl/images/AUrvRi
> 
> If I didn't reply to your comments, just please know that I read them all and they make me so excited to write for you all and I appreciate them so much!!!!


	16. Chapter 16

Baby hears Doc's voice as soon as he steps off the elevator. It's loud and strained with stress. Baby stops in his tracks and waits, listening to the sound of him over Hocus Pocus. 

"I expect this sort of nonsense from some of the others. I've handled this sort of nonsense from some of the others. But you two. Really. Jeopardizing everything because you can't keep it in your pants?"

Baby's stomach drops, flips, and he runs around the corner, skidding to a stop as soon as his worst fears are confirmed. 

Buddy and Darling are seated, Doc is standing in his customary place at the head of the table, a handgun in his hands, a sawed-off shotgun in front of him. His coat is off, his forehead is shiny with sweat, his face is crimson with anger. Buddy's face is bleeding and bruised, it looks bad. Darling is holding a bloody hand to her arm. They all turn to look at Baby. 

"Get out of here!" Buddy snaps. He'd looked almost relaxed before despite his injuries, but now he looks furious. 

"Don't move a god damn muscle!" Doc counters. 

Baby holds very, very still, eyes glued to the gun. 

"My driver, my lucky fucking charm, and you just had to get your grubby fingers on him." Doc points his chin at a chair without taking his eyes off of the other man. "Have a seat, Baby."

Baby skirts past his usual chair, taking the seat Doc indicated at the big table. Thankfully next to Buddy.

"I have money..."

Everyone turns to look at Baby again. This time they seem momentarily lost for words. 

Baby tries again. "I owe you still, right? I've been saving everything from the jobs--though I bought a chair for Joe--it's yours. Just let us go."

Doc tilts his head. "A chair... Baby, this isn't about fucking money. Not completely. No, this is about the rules. You know why the jobs I plan are so successful? Because of the GOD DAMNED RULES." Doc stops, takes a minute to calm down, breathes deep. "Not to mention how sloppy you both were. Using the burner I gave you to send dirty texts? Are you both idiots? As if I wouldn't track down the number!"

Baby realizes he's shivering. He sees in the animal part of his brain a car from the backseat and the semi they drove into. He sees his parents yelling. He sees hitting. Trouble means violence. Baby glances at Buddy and realizes the other man has been staring at him; Baby doesn't know what sort of face he's supposed to be making in this situation, he can't move even if he did, every muscle is locked up. 

"Anyone else. You could have chosen anyone else and I could have just made you disappear. But no. You had to hassle the second reason my jobs are so successful. People like you two? The criminals? A dime a dozen. Baby here is a gold doubloon. Hell, he's a damn solid gold bar. But unfortunately he has a sentimental streak, don't you, Baby? So I can't just bump you off without dealing with a decidedly UN-lucky lucky charm."

The monologue Doc is delivering borders on incomprehensible to Baby. This is not the time for speeches. There's no way he can focus, not when he knows Darling is bleeding from a gunshot wound under her hand. 

Buddy gives Doc a half-smile, careful not to move the injured side of his face. The bruises are a deep purple, almost black, his cheekbone looks strange, lumpy, swollen. "Let them go. You can do whatever you need to me."

Both Darling and Baby shout "no!" at the same time. Baby gets to his feet, his heart is hammering in his throat and he has no plan but he's got to do something. He can't let them get hurt. Doc's gun swings towards him and it's all he can see, it looks so much bigger now, it's pointed right at him-

Buddy's in front of him, arms up, palms out. He says nothing, just stands there, rage radiating from every inch of him. His right arm slowly starts dropping and moving back.

Darling gets to her feet. "You don't point that at him," she snarls. "You don't point that fucking gun at Baby."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Doc sighs. For a minute he sounds like he might be reasonable, but then the gun swings towards Darling and there's a loud sound, a horrible sound so loud and sharp it's like the air is splintering. Baby screams, his ears are agony, the ringing is so loud the music is completely drowned out. 

Baby struggles to see past the tears of pain in his eyes. He expects to see Darling dead on the floor, expects he and Buddy are next. Instead, Doc collapses heavily on his chair. He's bleeding profusely from his shoulder. Buddy has a gun in his hand, small and sleek. The shot wasn't from Doc's gun, it was from Buddy's.

Buddy's mouth is moving, Doc's is moving. Darling grabs the handgun Doc dropped, Buddy grabs the shotgun. They all glance at Baby occasionally, but all Baby can do is stand there clutching his ears. It hurts. It hurts and the sound is as infuriating as it is painful. 

Darling moves cautiously over to him, puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. Baby ignores her until she starts guiding him back towards the elevator. He can hear her voice, but it's as if she's far away and talking through a thick blanket; Baby just shakes his head at her. He's trying to keep his eyes open but they keep squeezing shut. She guides him to a car, a bright blue Focus. 

When she gets in, he only knows by the car shifting slightly. He turns to her. "Buddy?!" he asks, probably yelling. He doesn't care. 

She touches his cheek, a gentle caress of her fingertips. It's surprisingly soothing. "Soon!" she yells and Baby can understand it. Darling starts the car and drives out of the parking garage. It's also soothing to feel the rumble, the pull of gravity on the turns. Baby wraps his arms around himself. 

They're on the expressway, speeding north, when Baby sits up straight in his seat. He grabs Darling's arm, thankfully not the bleeding one. "Joe! My dad!" Darling spares a glance in his direction but offers no verbal or physical response. Baby chews his lip, still holding onto her as if she might get away, when he figures it out. "Tell Buddy the money is in the floor! Give it to Joe and get him to a nursing home! Please!" Darling arches an eyebrow. "PLEASE!" He knows he's yelling now. It's important. It should be yelled. 

Darling nods and shakes his hand off. It'll have to do for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned more fanart cuz I GOTTA. It's Baby in his blue lace panties and with some Hello Kitty sunglasses he found in a car. https://www.mediafire.com/view/yu2zig2m5rwe7fg/Baby_-_fangirlingicizing_-_Commission_questionartbox.png
> 
> Yoooo we almost done. I'm sad but also so happy. Thank you for reading this and commenting, I love you all!


	17. Chapter 17

"We gotta stay on the run for a while," Buddy says, speaking up so Baby can hear him. He and Baby are sitting on the edge of the bed in a motel room while Darling smears lipstick on Baby's mouth. "Joe's safe. We're gonna be okay. Trust me?"

Baby doesn't dare move, last time he did Darling pinched him hard enough that he thinks it'll bruise. Instead he makes an affirmative noise. Darling snorts.

Every day a different motel. They sleep during the day, stake out their homes at night. They got into the Buddy and Darling's apartment easily enough; it had been searched and a few things were taken by Doc's dirty cops but no one bothered keeping watch over it. Doc didn't care too much about Buddy and Darling beyond wanting them dead. What he cared about, what he wanted back, was Baby. 

No one ever told Baby what happened after he and Darling left the base. Doc is alive, he knows that. So whatever happened is apparently between Doc and Buddy. A part of Baby wishes Buddy'd shot the other man, then they maybe wouldn't have to run. But another part of him thinks that's a mean and awful thing to think. 

Their second night on the run all three snuck into the nursing home where Buddy had dropped Joe off with the money and a note. During the visit, Joe eyed the two tattooed, battered criminals and then stared at Baby hard; they stared at each other so long Baby's eyed watered. Then Joe signed: you love them? Baby signed: yeah. So Joe shrugged and pulled his foster son into one of the longest hugs of his life. Not a lot more to be said about it after that. 

Baby only cried a little on the way back to the motel. 

The bullet during the confrontation just grazed Darling, some superglue fixed it up pretty well. She was--and still is--pissed her pink leather jacket is ruined. Baby asked if he could keep it. It's too small for him but the leather is soft and he likes the color. Maybe someday he can figure out what to do with it, but for now he just runs his fingers over it when he feels anxious. 

Sitting back on her heels, Darling catches Baby's eye, signs: good. She's trying to learn sign language since Baby's hearing is still messed up. The ringing has gone down a little, the music helps, but everyone stills sounds like they're talking from a long ways away. Darling periodically insists Baby needs a doctor and Buddy says it's too dangerous. They need to get away from Atlanta before seeing a doctor and Baby won't let them leave Atlanta without his things. His tapes. 

Getting to his feet, Baby walks to the bathroom and looks at himself in the dim yellow light, clutching his iPod in his hand. Buddy and Darling both like him in frilly things, so his stretchy tank top and panties are in matching pink lace. His eyelashes are thick and black and long. His cheeks ruddy with blush. His lips are shiny and bright pink, they look wet. Leaning forward, Baby tentatively touches his bottom lip then rubs the lipstick between his fingers. It's sticky. 

Buddy slips into the bathroom behind him, grinning his half-smile. The swelling's going down but his face looks more black and purple and green than before. Baby helps him ice it before they all go to sleep. "Looks good, honey. Looks so good." Buddy slips an arm around Baby's waist, kissing his neck.

Darling's waiting with her phone when Buddy guides Baby out. She snaps a photo, the flash blinding him. She always uses the flash, says she loves the way it makes everything look so much sleazier. Baby once said "tawdry" and she laughed.

Baby sits back down on the edge of the bed, uncertain what's expected of him. More flashes. Buddy gets his phone out and snaps a few photos too. 

"All right, boys. I'm heading out," Darling says, tossing her phone in her pink quilted clutch. "Text me if there's an emergency, but seriously send me some fucking photos or else."

Buddy strokes Baby's hair as Darling closes the door behind herself. He gently plucks the earbuds from Baby's ears and starts singing, setting the iPod on the nightstand. "Baby let me take you, let me take you in my arms-" He props his phone up against the lamp so the screen faces the bed, opens and flips the camera, switches to video. He hits the button and it starts recording them. "Let me take you in my arms and hold you, show you I love you-"

Baby sees the blush spreading across his own cheeks on the little screen. It matches his lips and his lingerie. Buddy sings until he draws Baby into a kiss and even then he keeps humming. His touch his gentle, sweet, and his kisses are loving. Baby melts into his arms. 

Kissing along Baby's cheek, smearing his lipstick across his face and down his neck, Buddy stops humming long enough to say, "you look so pretty. And you're all mine. Say what I want to hear, babydoll."

"Love you," Baby gasps. He can't stop staring at the screen, can't stop watching the way Buddy's hands slide up and down his sides, bunching and smoothing the lace over and over. "Love you, daddy."

Humming again, Buddy pulls Baby forward over his lap until his ass is draped over Buddy's thighs. Now the camera is in his face and Baby's embarrassed enough to look away. "Look at how cute this ass is," Buddy says proudly. He pulls the lace panties to one side so a cheek is bare, he starts rubbing and kneading it. "Face the camera, Baby Love," Buddy commands.

As soon as Baby stares at his own eyes, Buddy brings his hand down in a soft smack; Baby jerks forward in his lap, startled. Buddy's thumb slides between his cheeks, brushes Baby's hole, teasing, and Baby watches himself lick his lips. Buddy's dick is pressing into his belly, he wants it in his mouth. 

Sliding off of Buddy's lap, Baby gets to his knees between the other man's legs. Buddy grins then winces as he stretches his battered face. Unbuttoning Buddy's jeans, Baby carefully pulls his dick out and licks up the shaft; he sucks the tip in his mouth and swirls his tongue around before pulling off with a popping sound. 

"Taste good?" Buddy asks. 

Baby smiles and nods. Now that he's not watching himself, he feels more at ease. He presses open-mouthed kisses up and down it, getting it wet and sticky with lipstick, slowly stroking it with one hand. Buddy groans and Baby's pulse flutters, his own dick twitching against the lace. 

Buddy grabs Baby's wrist. "Get up on your knees here." Baby climbs onto the bed and the other man positions him so he's not quite facing the camera. Spreading Baby's ass, moving the panties to the side, he licks him, the tip of his tongue slipping into him. Baby shivers but arches his back; he finds this less humiliating than the first time, especially now that he knows how much Buddy enjoys doing it.

When Buddy gets off the bed to undress, Baby watches him on the screen, studying him, but when Buddy reaches into the nightstand to get the lube and meets Baby's gaze on the camera, Baby has to close his eyes, overwhelmed.

Buddy's finger slips into him easily but Baby still jumps, whimpers. It was loud enough that it'll be on the recording; he wonders if the wet sounds as Buddy fucks him with his fingers will be audible too. 

"Love you, Baby," Buddy growls, bending down to kiss and bite Baby's soft skin. "Fuck you're so sexy, you're gonna kill me." He shifts the angle of his finger, adds another, and brushes the good spot. Baby squirms a little. "Yeah, Daddy knows what you like. Gonna give it to you soon. You want my cock?"

Baby opens his mouth to respond but another finger enters him and Baby has to take a moment to just breathe. They fuck every day now, usually with Darling watching, so it's not as agonizing. It's still invasive, though. "Want it," Baby says when he finally finds his voice. "Want you."

Buddy's dick presses against him and Baby tries to keep his body relaxed. As Buddy pushes in, he starts singing again, voice a little unsteady. It's exciting to know this is effecting him just as much. He's singing a different song now, Barry White, Never Never Gonna Give You Up. Buddy loves that one, says it's their song. 

Once the older man is all the way in, he leans back, pulling Baby with him until he's on his knees. "All right, Baby Love, go ahead, bounce on my dick."

Baby changes his position slightly with every bounce until he finds the good spot, and when he does he loses his rhythm and almost pitches forward. As he moves up and down, it's like a fire is building in his belly; his dick is aching and he won't touch it unless Buddy tells him to. But instead of touching him that way, Buddy squeezes his pecs in both hands, pressing them together as if to give him cleavage, pinching his nipples between his rough fingers. 

"Fuck yourself on my cock," Buddy grunts. "So fucking good for daddy."

The stimulation is constant and Buddy's voice is low and Baby looks at the two of them on the screen and his dick pulses and he's coming. "Love you!" Baby wails. "Daddy, ah, love you!"

"Yeah," Buddy says in his ear, grabbing his hips to force him to keep bouncing. Tears prickle Baby's eyes from the overstimulation. "Fuck, yes, Baby, love you too-" When he comes, he wraps Baby up in his arms and fucks up into him, squeezing him tight against his chest.

When Buddy pulls out, he lays Baby out on the bed and grabs the phone, shutting the recording off and no doubt sending it Darling. Tucking in against Baby, repositioning him until Baby's head is on his shoulder, Buddy kisses his forehead. "We're gonna go to Vegas," Buddy murmurs. 

Baby can barely understand what he's saying, so he just closes his eyes and settles in. Darling will be back once evening falls, they need to get some sleep.

"We're gonna put it all on red. I'm gonna marry Darling again, then marry you."

Baby blinks, wonders if he heard wrong. He looks at the bracelet around his wrist and decides no, he heard right. And he smiles.


	18. Supplementary Stuff

Here we are! Thanks for sticking with me for so many chapters! I may come back and write some stuff in the future about them. I'd like to write what Baby and Buddy's Vegas "ceremony" would be like. And what would happen when Doc finds them. And, y'know, more smut.

So I was writing out the songs I used in this and thought people might want to know? Then with the fanart and stuff I figured I'd collect all the info here. Lots of love to everyone that read and left kudos and left comments! 

 

The dude at the beginning that Buddy punches for harassing Baby is JD (with his hat tattoo lol). 

 

FANART!

Buddy and Baby together: http://questionartbox.tumblr.com/post/163271522255/commission-for-fangirlingicizing-art-blog

Baby in his blue panties and some Hello Kitty Sunglasses https://www.mediafire.com/view/yu2zig2m5rwe7fg/Baby_-_fangirlingicizing_-_Commission_questionartbox.png

 

If you wanna make a playlist, here's the songs from the fic:  
Ain't That a Kick In the Head, Dean Martin  
Take Five, Dave Brubeck  
Sound of Silence, Simon & Garfunkel  
It's the Same Old Song, the Four Tops  
Baby Love, the Supremes  
Superstition, Stevie Wonder  
Some Day We'll Be Together, Diana Ross  
How Sweet It Is, Marvin Gaye  
Ain't Too Proud to Beg, The Temptations  
Lets Stay Together, Al Green  
I'll Take You There, Staple Singers  
Never, Never Gonna Give You Up, Barry White  
Signed Sealed Delivered, Stevie Wonder  
House of the Rising Sun, the Animals  
Hold On I'm Comin', Sam & Dave  
Trouble Man, Marvin Gaye  
Foxey Lady, Jimi Hendrix  
Baby It's You, Smith  
Baby Let Me Take You, the Detroit Emeralds  
How Sweet It Is, Marvin Gaye  
Hocus Pocus, Focus


End file.
